All the Wrong Reasons
by UchiHime
Summary: Spencer is an omega. Derek is an alpha. Cases are deadly. Coffee is good. Love is rough. Mistakes can ruin everything. Omegaverse, Mpreg, Morgan/Reid.
1. Roasted Coffee and Case Files

**Title: **All the Wrong Reasons**  
Rating: **M**  
Pairings:** Morgan/Reid is the main pairing, there's is one scene of Hotch/Reid.**  
Warnings: **Omegaverse, Mpreg, OOC (I'm new to working with these characters so everyone will be a little OOC, but Hotch more than the others because I need him to behave a certain way)**  
Summary: **Spencer is an Omega. Derek is an Alpha. Between solving cases and watching each other's back, they just might fall in love. If Spencer can get over this desire not to bond, that is. And one mistake can change the course of their relationship forever.

**UchiSays: **Hello everyone, welcome to my first ever Criminal Minds story. I feel like I'm cheating writing Omegaverse as my first fic in this category, but it's what my muse wanted and the plot bunnies were plentiful. I really love Criminal Minds, and I really, really of Morgan/Reid, so I really hope I can do this some justice. Please review and let me know how I'm doing. Also, with victims and UNSUBS and LEOs there's going to be a lot of OC's in this story, but there are a couple of OC's that make reappearances. They play very minor roles, but I thought I should point that out. One of these repeat-OC's you're going to meet at the beginning of this chapter.

* * *

**All the Wrong Reasons**

**Chapter One: Roasted Coffee and Case Files**

Spencer opened the door to the coffee shop and was greeted by a burst of warm air and the smell of roasting coffee beans. He took a moment to breath in that tantalizing scent, before quickly getting in line behind the only other customer in the shop. The shop, simply named 'Roasted,' was just a small family run shop that had only opened a few months previously around the corner from Spencer's apartment. He'd stopped in once on a whim and had loved both the atmosphere and the coffee. He was a bit of a regular now.

He glanced up at the menu with tired eyes while he waited for the other customer to finish up. He'd already decided what he wanted before he'd arrived, but it didn't hurt to see if something else would catch his fancy. Nothing did, though, and he went with what he'd already decided.

"What can I get for you, Spencer?" The barista asked. Spencer came in enough to be recognized by name and develop something of a friendship with the employees.

"Hi, Aimee," he greeted sleepily. Aimee was small girl with mousy brown hair and a quick smile. She was very friendly and very talkative. During one of his previous visits, she'd told him all about how she'd gone away to college, met a boy, fell in love, fell pregnant, gotten heartbroken, dropped out of school, came home to Quantico, and opened the shop with her mother. She'd said that she'd been very upset about having to leave school, but she loved this little shop and she loved her daughter more. "How's Jillian?"

"She as well as can be expected. She's starting to cut teeth and she's making sure the whole house knows how much it hurts."

The door to the shop opened and closed behind Spencer and he assumed that the lady who had been in line before him had left. "Sounds like you're all getting about as much sleep as me."

Aimee laughed. "I think we may be getting a bit more sleep than you, dearie. You look like hell."

Spencer smiled sheepishly. He's just completely his bimonthly hell week—also known as his Omega Heat—so it went without saying that he would look like hell. "I feel like hell, too."

"Have you found yourself a lover yet? Spend the night practicing making babies? Jilly-Bean could use some kids her age around here."

Spencer coughed embarrassed by her straightforwardness. No one had ever called Aimee shy or subtle. He ignored the question. "May I have a large caramel mocha with three shots of..." he broke off in a yawn, "Three shots of espresso?" He finished, a light blush coloring his cheeks. He yawned again. "Actually, make that two... two coffees, not two espresso shots," he added quickly in clarification. For some reason, it seemed more OK to ask for two coffees instead of six shots of espresso, but he really needed it.

For some reason this Heat had tired him out more than usual, probably because his body was tired of him being in the near constant company of two Alphas—one of which he was extremely attracted to and compatible with—and not bonding with one of them. Spencer mentally rolled his eyes. He would bond when he was good and ready and right now he was definitely not ready. To bond now would be just like what Aimee had done, put her life completely on hold for the sake of raising a baby.

Still, after another Heat spent alone—behind no less than four locked doors, an alarm system, and a security detail outside just to keep wandering alphas at bay—his body was extremely exhausted. He'd slept like a log the previous night but had woken more tired than before he'd slept. So, six shots of espresso was more than justified, especially considering it took two shots to get him normal functioning levels on a good day.

He had known ignoring his biological urge to mate for so long would begin to wear on him, but he'd been sure he could handle it. He wasn't exactly a _normal_ omega, after all. Actually, Spencer Reid could not be called normal by any standards.

"Two large caramel mochas with half a pot of espresso," Aimee teased, "would that be all?"

Spencer was about to nod, when a voice from behind him said, "Add a raspberry scone."

Spencer didn't need to turn around to know who had spoken, though he must have been more tired than he'd thought for not noticing his presence before. "I assume you're paying then," he asked Derek while giving Aimee a nod letting her know it was OK to add his request to the order.

"Of course, Pretty Boy," Derek said, pulling out his wallet and handing a bill to the barista.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" Spencer asked as Aimee rang out their purchases and counted Derek out his change. Aimee was the only one working, so she turned her attention to making Spencer's coffee once she was done handling the money.

"Well, I was hoping to surprise you with coffee, so you wouldn't have to suffer that tar at the office, but you beat me here, so I'm buying myself a scone and paying for your coffee."

"You came all the way here to get me coffee?" Spencer asked, mildly surprised. He'd mentioned to Derek only once over two months ago that he liked the coffee at this shop and that the caramel mochas were his favorite, but he'd just been making small talk. He hadn't expected Derek to even remember, let alone come here, especially since Derek had to go in the opposite direction of the office to get here. He'd have to deliberately go out of his way to get here.

"Of course, Pretty Boy," Derek grinned. "I know how you are after your week. It takes six shots of espresso just to get that super brain of your powered up."

"Thank you," Spencer said with a blush. Out of the two alphas Spencer spent his time with (Hotch and Derek), Derek was the one that called to his inner omega the most. Spencer was extremely attracted to him and the two of them were very compatible. He knew, if he ever wanted to, bonding would Derek would make his extremely happy; they could live a great life together.

But Spencer didn't want to bond with anyone. He wasn't ready to settle into the role of the domesticated omega, caring for the home and children while his alpha took care of everything else. That wasn't the life Spencer wanted to lead. Of course, there was nothing that said Spencer had to play that role, but it was engrained into his genetics to want children with all his being and to be a homemaker. Spencer just had too much strength of will to give in to biology.

"No problem, Baby Boy." Derek leered at him teasingly. "But you know, I could make your hell week a little less hellish."

Spencer's entire face turned as red as a cherry. No matter how many times Derek teased him like this, it still made him blush. And it still made his inner omega roar with want and hope. To be completely honest, Spencer had been in love with Derek for quite some time. He wasn't exactly sure when it had happened, but he'd quite literally woken up in the middle of the night some months ago with that knowledge engraved on his heart and mind. At first he'd thought it was just his omega side trying to bond with an alpha, but as more time passed the more he grew sure that he loved Derek. He, Spencer Reid, loved Derek Morgan. And it had nothing to do with their alpha-omega instincts. He well and truly loved him.

It had to be real love, because being an omega did not explain why he spent so much time just thinking about Derek. Or why Derek's smile made his heart flutter and his laugh sounded better than Mozart or Beethoven. Or why he craved his company. How he genuinely enjoyed spending time with Derek with no inclination of the sexual nature. Or why old conversations they'd had would randomly drift through his head and even after the passing of time they still had the power to make Spencer laugh or smile. Or why he'd see or hear something and immediately think of how much Derek would enjoy it.

Being an omega only explained his base instinct to mate with Derek and bear his children. The thrill he got from simply being able to surprise Derek or make him laugh or smile was completely Spencer alone. He loved Derek, and sometimes Derek's teasing was a bit too much for him because he couldn't be sure if it was just teasing or if the voice in the back of his mind whispering of love requited was speaking the truth.

There was also the small little, nearly unimportant fact, that Derek had already claimed him.

"What would you do if I decided to take you up on that offer one day?" Spencer asked.

The teasing smile left Derek's face as he set Spencer with a hard, yet gentle look and said seriously, "First, I would take you to bed and rock your world. Then I'd bind you so tightly to me you'd never second guess the decision. I would love and protect you and fill your belly with both food and babies."

Spencer licked his suddenly dry lips and cast his eyes down, unable to meet Derek's heated gaze. "And what if I didn't want babies? What if I want to continue working at the BAU?"

"We'll worry about that when the time comes."

"Your order, sirs," Aimee said before Spencer could think up a reply.

"Thank you, Aimee," Spencer said quickly, ignoring the raised eyebrow and questioning look she gave him.

Derek chuckled. "Thank you," he repeated, grabbing the bag with his scone in one hand and one of Spencer's coffees in the other.

"Please come again," Aimee grinned. "Both of you."

Spencer was a little scared of the mischief he saw shining in her eyes.

Derek smiled at her as he headed towards the door. "Did you walk here, Baby Boy?" He asked Spencer.

Spencer nodded. The shop was in between his apartment and the station where he caught the subway to work.

"Good, I'll give you a ride to the office then."

Spencer, though still a bit embarrassed from the earlier conversation, saw no reason to decline and just got into the car without complaint.

…

Spencer had already finished one of his coffees by the time the two of them arrived at the office and was half way through his second one as he followed Derek into the bullpen.

"Good morning," Derek said as he made his way over to his desk.

Penelope and Emily were standing at Em's desk chatting. They looked up at Derek's greeting and Emily smiled. "Good morning, you two," she said.

"Did you two just arrive together?" Penelope asked, a scandalized look on her face. "After _this_ week? Should we be expecting a happy announcement soon?" Penelope was one of the few people who knew that Spencer was an omega and Derek was an alpha. She also knew exactly why Spencer took entire weeks off every two months. Spencer hadn't even thought of how it would look to others if he and Derek arrived at work together the first day after Spencer's Heat. He blushed and tried to hide his embarrassment by taking another mouthful of his coffee.

Derek chuckled. "Don't worry, baby girl, you're still my one and only."

Penelope opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by JJ's sudden arrival. "Good, you're all here," the small blonde woman said moving quickly across the bullpen. "We have a case. Meeting room, now."

The team rushed into motion. "Don't think you're off the hook yet, Derek Morgan," Garcia said as they entered the meeting room. JJ handed them all case files as they walked through the door.

"What did he do this time?" Rossi asked. He and Hotch were already seated at the meeting table.

"He and Reid arrived together," Penelope explained.

Hotch looked at them curiously, a bit of surprise showing on his face. He, of course, knew that Spencer was an omega, if not because he himself was an alpha then because he was team leader and needed to know that kind of information about the team members. "After _this_ week?"

"Should we be expecting a happy announcement soon?" JJ also knew that Spencer was an omega, and of his attraction to Derek, but that was because Spencer had confided in her. Prentiss and Rossi had no idea what was going on.

"The three of you should mind your own business," Derek said, "but if you must know, we bumped into each at a coffee shop and I gave him a ride."

"Likely story," Penelope said.

"Weren't we here to talk about a case?" Spencer spoke up before his private life could be discussed any further.

"We do," JJ said, pulling everyone's attention to her, "and it's a bad one." She picked up a remote off the table and pointed at the screen behind her. Two pictures appeared on the screen, one a cap and gown photo of a teenage girl with blond her and brown eyes. The other picture was a crime scene photo of her body. The teasing air in the room evaporated as everyone looked at the two pictures.

"This is eighteen year old Megan Sparx," JJ explained. "She left work one day and never made it home. Two days later, her body was found in a lightly wooded area by a group of boy scouts. She'd been gutted, her breast cut off, and her vagina sealed with melted wax."

JJ pressed a button on the remote and the screen and two different pictures showed up. This time it was a black man. "This is twenty-two year old Nathan Miles. He left home to go to the store, only for his body to turn up the next night gutted, his penis removed, and his anus sealed with wax."

JJ hesitated for a second, before pressing the remote button again. Garcia let out a surprised squeak at the pictures that appeared on the screen. "This is ten year old Jordan Rodriguez," JJ said. "He was last seen playing at the playground with a group of friends. He'd split from the group to head home. His body was found that same night in the same condition as victim two."

There was a brief moment of silence in the room, before Hotch closed the file folder in front of him and got to his feet.

"Wheels up in twenty," he stated as he stalked out of the room.


	2. Another Victim

**UchiSays: **Hello Dear Hearts. I'd like to start off by saying the feedback I got from just the first chapter was much more than I had expected and so amazing and I'm grateful and I love you all for that. Reviews and coffee are the batteries that keep me churning out chapters, so keep them coming! and I'll try to create something you'll all enjoy and eat up. The second thing I'd like to say is, I learned the hard way that it is simply impossible for me to make regular updates unless I already have the entire story written before posting chapter one. So, I don't going to promise you regular updates, because I would just end up breaking that promise. I will promise you that I would do the best I can to get chapters written and posted in a timely matter. The third thing I would like to say is:

Let's all give a warm welcome, a round of applause, lots of hugs and coffee, and many thanks to my supercalifragilisticexpialid ocious new Beta SmcdsShipper19, who not only volunteered her service, but was also able to start right away and edited and sent me back 3 chapters in less than 24 hours, and she let's me call her Lessie, which is a name I have a special attachment to. Thank you Lessie.

Right, so enough chatter, let's start:

* * *

**Chapter Two: Another Victim**

"So what are we looking at here?" Hotch asked as soon as the team was settled on the jet.

"Honestly, I have no idea," Prentiss spoke up. "The UNSUB is all over the place; victims of different ages, races, genders, and socioeconomic classes. They were grabbed from different locations. Dumped in different locations. The only consistency is the cause of death."

"What's the first thing we look at when working a case?" Hotch asked.

Spencer looked up from the case file and answered, "Victimology: why this victim, why this day, why this crime."

"But, like Prentiss said, the UNSUB is all over the place with his victims," Morgan stated.

"What's the second thing we look at?"

"Methodology: how the UNSUB kills, what's his signature, and what does that say about him."

"So what does his method say about him?"

"He guts them like animals and then discards them like trash. A lot of anger, but very little respect for the victims."

"Perhaps he actually sees them as animals or trash or just anything less than human."

"He sees them as less than human and thus they don't deserve to live?"

"Or reproduce. There's no signs of sexual assault other than the removal and sealing of obvious erogenous zones."

"Maybe he's impotent. This could be his way of expressing his displeasure at his own impotency."

"So we have an impotent UNSUB, who views his victims as less than human, seemingly targeting at random?"

"What about the time between killings? After killing Sparx, he waited three weeks before killings Miles, and then over a month before going after Rodriguez. What was he doing in the meantime?"

"Maybe he was hunting? Maybe he was trying to find victims that suited his taste."

"But what are his tastes? We have victims spanning the ages of ten to twenty-two, both genders, Caucasian, African American, and of Hispanic decent, one from lower middle-class background, one just straight middle-class, and another upper middle-class. There's no particular type."

"Maybe the victims each represent someone different in his life. The Cottonwood Grove Killer, Jeffery Daniels, was severely abused both physically and sexually as a child. More than once, he reached out for help but was ignored. When he started killing, he chose victims that resembled those who hadn't helped him as a child, but each victim reminded him of how they were when they denied him help instead of how they are now. His first victim was a twelve year old girl that reminded him of his childhood friend who had called him a liar when he admitted his abuse to her. His second victim was man who he thought resembled the pastor who hadn't asked questions when he'd come to church with bruises. His third victim was a sixteen year old boy that he associated with the older brother that had run away from home and left him behind."

"That's a valid point, but it seems unlikely. Let's not count out other connections just yet."

Spencer frowned. He'd been intently studying the crime scene photos and the case file during the discussion and something wasn't adding up. "Uh... guys," he said realizing what it was that was off, "I wouldn't exactly say he discards them like trash. Sparx 's body was found in a lightly wooded area within two days of her disappearance. She was right off a well-traveled hiking path. The UNSUB had taken the time to cover her body with a sheet after laying her down carefully. Miles was found the day after he disappeared, in an alley behind some commercial buildings not far from the door where one of the buildings received its weekly supply deliveries, on the day said delivery was to arrive. Once more, he'd taken the time to cover the victim after laying him down. Rodriguez's body was found the same night he disappeared, on the side of a well-traveled road, again covered in a sheet after being dumped."

"He wants them found fast. He places them in areas he knows a lot of people pass, so that they can be discovered quickly."

"More than that, _he_ wants to be found quickly. Instead of just wrapping them in a sheet and dumping them from his vehicle while in transit, he takes the time to pull over, lay the victim out carefully, and then cover them with a sheet. The first victim wasn't found fast enough for him, so he changed the dump-site to somewhere more populated. And he lingers there in hope of someone catching a glimpse of him."

"But why is he bothering to cover them with a sheet in the first place, other than giving him a reason to hang around the body a few seconds longer."

"He carries them and lays them down. The victims are all small in stature and considerably lighter than other people their age, but even they would be heavy as dead weight. Yet he still carries them instead of dragging them. And he clears the ground around them before laying them down, as if he wants them to be comfortable. Then he covers them, trying to preserve their modesty."

"He's remorseful. For whatever reason, he feels bad about killing these people and he wants to be caught."

"When we land, JJ you should meet up with the local agents. See if they have any information they might have thought too unimportant to put in the initial briefing, or if they have any new information at all. Ask about witnesses at the dump-sites. Anyone present at all three? Any suspicious vehicle reported being seen at all three? Also, we need to talk to the families of the first two victims; see if you can arrange that. Reid and Prentiss, I want you two to visit the last victim's family. He's the biggest outlier as far as ages goes, but he was chosen for a reason. Find out what that reason is. Garcia, I want you digging. We need to find out whatever it is that connects these victims. The UNSUB found and chose the victims somewhere and we need to know where. Morgan, I want you to visit the Medical Examiner. Rossi and I are going to visit the dump-sites, starting with the last one and working backwards."

…

The Rodriguez residence was a two story home in a regular middle class neighborhood. To Spencer, it was almost remarkably unremarkable. The house was painted blue, with a white front door. The front lawn was cut, but not overly manicured while the car sitting in the driveway was a non-too-expensive family car. Everything was completely normal to Spencer, he wasn't sure what he'd been expecting but this wasn't it. A family who'd just lost their ten year old son couldn't be this normal.

He followed Prentiss up to the door and stood over her shoulder as she rang the bell. A few seconds later, a voice called out from inside the house. "Coming!" they yelled. A few seconds later the door opened and they were greeted by dark haired woman in her early thirties, wearing a tired expression and drying her hands on the frilly apron tied around her waist. This was the face of a grieving mother, Spencer thought. No matter how normal the house looked from the outside, its occupants' faces told the story of their loss.

"Hi, can I help you?" The woman asked.

"Hello, ma'am," Prentiss spoke up. "I'm SSA Emily Prentiss and this is Dr. Reid. We're with the FBI and are investigating the murder of your son, Jordan. We just have a few questions for you."

"We've already talked to the police."

"We tend to ask different questions," Spencer told her. "We're from the Behavioral Analysis Unit, our questions will be more about discovering what type of person would have targeted your son and why he was targeted, and less about the actual crime itself."

"Oh, well come in," she stepped aside and held the door open wider and Spencer followed Prentiss in.

"Sorry for the mess," Mrs. Rodriguez said as she showed them the way to the living room. "I was in the middle of putting everything in order. I'm going to have a house full of people starting tomorrow with everyone arriving in preparation for the funeral. Even my sister Lucy is coming. We haven't spoken in three years, but Jordan was always her favorite nephew. Everyone loved Jordan." She paused. "Anyway, it's a bit of a family tradition that everyone stay's in the... late one's home as a way to commemorate how he lived. Our house isn't very large, but tradition is tradition. I'm trying to figure out sleeping arrangements now, because tomorrow I probably won't be able to step foot out of the kitchen. Another tradition, you see, we cook a feast and throw a party. A celebration of life."

"Will anyone be staying in Jordan's room?" Spencer asked.

"Yes, some of the younger children. I wanted to avoid having anyone in there, but my husband and I have a very large combined family. As I said, our house isn't very large and Jordan has two sets of bunk-beds and room to lay a pallet on the floor in there if need be."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to take a look at Jordan's room. Just to see if there's anything in there that might hint at why Jordan was targeted."

"Um...sure. It's the first door on the left at the top of the stairs. It might be a bit of a mess. Jordan was sick for a week and confined to his bed. It was his first day being allowed outside when this happened. No one's been in there since... Jordan liked his privacy, you see, and I keep expecting him to come running through the door at any minute. He was such a happy boy, I don't understand why anyone would..."

"Mrs. Rodriguez, why don't you speak to me while Dr. Reid takes a look at your son's room," Prentiss said, bringing Mrs. Rodriguez's attention to her.

Spencer slipped out of the room and up the stairs while the two women spoke. The first door on the left at the top of the stairs was closed. Spencer opened it slowly and stepped inside. It was a medium sized room with hard wood flooring and pale cream walls decorated with posters of different anime characters. Despite what Mrs. Rodriguez had said about it might being messy, the room was very clean compared to most children's. There was no pile of dirty clothes, or kicked off shoes, or dropped toys. Everything seemed to have a place and be in that place.

There were two sets of bunk beds on parallel walls. Each of the beds were made up neatly with dark blue sheets. Jordan's bed seemed to be the lower bunk on the left based on the number of hand drawn pictures pinned up there. Spencer went over for a closer look. Jordan seemed to have been trying his hand at drawing his own anime characters. They were fairly decent attempts for a ten year old. Spencer stepped back, but lost his balance and ended up falling forward. He caught his balance by pressing his hands against Jordan's mattress. He sneezed as he got back to his feet, his nose suddenly burning. He stepped back more carefully this time and turned around.

On the wall between the beds was a desk with a stack of notebooks and school books, but no computer. The desk had a built in bookshelf and it was filled with manga volumes. Spencer took a step closer and looked at the books: _Naruto_, _Bleach_, _Death_ _Note_, and _Hikaru_ _no_ _Go_. From what Spencer knew about anime and manga, these were some of the more popular and typically boy manga. There was also an assortment of music books. He looked through the schoolbooks on the desk. Apparently Jordan's class was studying long division in math and mitosis in science. They were reading _Where the Red Fern Grows_ as a class and Jordan was reading _Bud Not Buddy_ for his personal reading log. They were covering the Civil War in history and Jordan had been tasked with memorizing _The Gettysburg Address_. He was good at math, bored in science, intrigued by history, and enjoyed reading. He was a normal ten year old boy and a low risk target.

Spencer rubbed his still burning nose and barely managed to refrain from sneezing again. As he was about to look over the room again for something he might have missed, Spencer's phone rang. It was Hotch.

"Hello," Spencer answered.

"Reid, how close are you and Prentiss to finishing up there?"

"We should be wrapping up in a minute or so."

"Garcia is going to send an address to your phone. Meet the team there as soon as you two finish up."

"What's going on?"

"There's been another victim."

…

The latest dump-site was the parking lot of a local diner about five miles from the Rodriguez home. Spencer and Prentiss arrived on the scene fairly quickly. Hotch, Rossi, and JJ were already present when they got there. JJ was standing off to the side talking to an old couple.

"The victim is twenty-one year old Julie Summers," Rossi said. "She'd been reported missing just ten minutes before her body was found."

"Who reported her missing?" Prentiss asked, a small frown etched across her face as she looked at the sheet-covered body of the young woman.

"Her fiance, Michael Gregory; the LEO's are trying to contact him now. He said she went to the gym yesterday and never came home. He waited exactly twenty-four hours before reporting her."

"There's something different about her," Rossi added.

"Other than the fact that he only waited two days before targeting her while there was weeks between the first three murders?"

"Take a look."

Spencer and Prentiss stepped up to the body of the victim and pulled back the sheet covering her. Julie Summers was a petite woman with an almost childish face covered in freckles and framed by long red hair. Her skin was pale and cold and it took all Spencer had to ignore the smell of death clinging to her—one of the downsides of being an omega. He pulled the sheet farther down until it showed all the way to her waist. Both of her breasts had been sliced off and a splattering of red wax showed that her vagina had been sealed, but...

"She wasn't gutted," Prentiss stated, confusion in her tone.

JJ walked over to them at this point. "Patrons at the diner say she couldn't have been here more than ten minutes before being found, as no one had seen her when they'd arrived. No one saw her being dumped either. Apparently people pull up onto this parking lot and use it as a turn around point all the time, so its not out of the ordinary for a car to pull up on the lot then leave it right away."

"No one saw him at all?" Rossi asked, a little doubtful if his tone was anything to go by.

"If they did, they're not saying. The body was dumped in the middle of the lunchtime rush. The parking lot was full of cars, but most likely everyone was already inside."

Hotch frowned. "Let's reconvene at the station and go over what we've gathered. Morgan should meet us there."

…

"What did you learn from the ME?" Hotch asked once all the team was present at the police station and seated around the table in the room they'd been given for use.

"The cause of death for all the victims was asphyxiation. The UNSUB first gutted them, then smothered them with a pillow before they could die from the wound. The removal and sealing of their... personal parts happened postmortem."

"But why would he wait until they're dead to degrade them in such a way? If he's trying to tell them they don't deserve to reproduce or that they're less than human, wouldn't they need to be alive for the torture?"

"Maybe he isn't trying to tell the victims anything? Maybe he's trying to prove something to himself with these acts?"

"Maybe he's sexually attracted to the victims and he's killing and mutilating them in order to show that he's in control of himself and his unwanted urges."

"But what about the gutting? He does that first, right? That's the important part to him. More than wanting them dead, more than wanting to remove their sexuality, he wants them split open."

"Except he didn't gut the last victim."

"Are we sure we're dealing with the same UNSUB and not a copy-cat with last one?"

"A copy-cat is highly unlikely. The only information given to the media is that the victims had been gutted. A copy-cat wouldn't know about the mutilation."

"What about the people who found the bodies? They would know about the mutilation."

"Actually, they wouldn't, because of how the UNSUB takes the time to cover the body in a sheet after he dumps them. The only thing uncovered is their heads."

"If we're not dealing with a copy-cat, then why the break in pattern?"

"We'll have to wait to hear back from the ME to see if there's any other discrepancies with Julie Summers. What did you two learn from visiting the Rodriguez home?"

"Nothing much. They're a normal family. Jordan was a normal boy. Nothing really stood out. I saw no reason why he would have been targeted."

"JJ, did you contact the family of the other victims?"

"Yes, Megan Sparx's parents and boyfriend are unable to make it to the station, but they will welcome us to visit their home tomorrow sometime before noon. Nathan Miles has been estranged from his family since he was nineteen. Apparently he was kicked out because of his sexuality. I did manage to contact his boyfriend; he will be stopping by tomorrow."

"Have Garcia run background checks on these boyfriends as well as Summer's fiance. We can't count out anyone as of yet."

"Yes sir," Morgan said, pulling out his phone and dialing Garcia's number, putting the phone on speaker.

"You're on the line with the all knowing empress of awesome, speak and be recognized."

"Hey baby girl."

"Hello my luscious drop of sinful dark chocolate, I was just about to call you. I've got news."

"Good news I hope?"

"Unfortunately my news is a whole lot of nothing. I've been digging like our fearless leader bid me and found zip, nada, nothing. Our victims didn't even so much as buy the same type bubble gum in the last year. Sparx was a student at a local university. She lived on campus. Spent a lot of time at the movie theater if her credit card purchases are anything to go buy. The only thing of note is that for the last week or so before her death, she'd used her credit all of one time, which is big considering the amount of times she'd used it since she got the plastic beauty two years ago. Not that she's wracked up any debt or anything, seeing she paid all of her bills on time, never even a day late. Her credit score is enviable. That one time she did use it was at a gas station across town from her school. An area she's not in very often, except she was there as well a couple of months ago. Didn't take much digging to find that it was a gas station she frequented before going away to school. It's right around the corner from her parent's house.

"The wonderful Nathan Miles is another fellow with a credit score I would kill for; he'd also wracked up a lifetime of good karma. He lived nowhere near either Sparx's school or parents. He was a certified nursing assistant employed by a small company catering to in home care of senior citizens. He must have been really good at his job because no one has ever lodged a complaint of any type about him. On weekends, he volunteered answering calls for a hotline and shelter that serviced LGBT youth. Kudos for that my man. The last big purchase on his credit card was a platinum engagement band that he was supposed to pick up the day of his disappearance, but never retrieved. He'd also booked hotel reservations for the week following his death. Looks like he'd planned to wine and dine and propose to his sweetheart then spend a week celebrating the engagement by doing the dirty in a hotel bed.

"Little darling Jordan Rodriguez was an honor student at Ripley Elementary. His name was mentioned in the newspaper no less than five times in the last three years, boasting of his vocal prowess in school choir, church choir, and a private children's choir. From what the papers say and from what I saw on YouTube, the kid had the voice of an angel. He was out of school for a week just before his death. According to school records, his parents called in saying he was ill. Prior to this, he had perfect attendance, and the perfect attendance would have remained in tact because his parents had called him in. There is, however, no record of him visiting a doctor during that week of illness, but considering it is flu season they may or may not be justifiable.

"All and all, we have some wonderful people but nothing saying why they were chosen, I am sorry my dearest."

"That's fine, Garcia," Hotch said, "Thank you for digging. We have a few more names we want you to look into."

"Another victim?"

"Unfortunately, baby girl. Tell us what you can find out about Julie Summers, as well as her fiance Michael Gregory. And while you at, look into the boyfriends of victims one and two." Morgan gave her their names. "Work me some magic, baby girl, we're counting on you."

"Magic is what I do best, over and out."

"There's nothing more we can do tonight. Let's head to the hotel and get some rest; we'll look at this with fresh eyes in the morning."


	3. Closing the Case

**UchiSays: **Despite my better judgement and an overwhelming list of reasons why I shouldn't (the main one being the lack of progress I've made in writing chapter 5), I've decided to update today, simply because I love you all so much. It's the reviews that did me in. They were so kind that I couldn't just leave you all hanging for an undetermined amount of time, so yeah. Keep the reviews coming and I'll keep trying to churn out chapters and post them semi-regularly.

**Regarding this chapter:** So this chapter is basically Info-Dump. I don't know is there's some set rules to omegaverse hidden out there in the depths of the internet (probably somewhere on tumblr, you can find everything on tumblr) but if such rules exist I shall say right now "fuck that shit." From the omegaverse stories I've read, there are things I liked and didn't like (like knotting, I really don't like knotting) so I've altered omegaverse to suit my needs (meaning there's no knotting). I hadn't planned for it to be this way, but just about everything you need to know about my version of omegaverse can be found in this chapter. But it is actually a chapter and not just a listing of information...

Kudos to SMcdsShipper19 for being an awesome beta who is probably going to hunt me down very soon and demand chapter 5...

* * *

**Chapter Three: Closing the Case**

They'd been on the case for nearly a week and was still no closer to catching the UNSUB. They had worked and reworked their profile, but it still wasn't quite right. There was something missing. Something about this UNSUB was different and that made pinning a profile to him exceedingly difficult. But what was it? What set this UNSUB apart?

Spencer stood in front of the board containing pinned up pictures of the victims and crime scenes, as well as a map containing even more pins for the geographic profile. They'd managed to narrow down the UNSUB's hunting ground based on abduction and dump-sites. But that was pretty much all they had. Spencer studied the board.

There was four victims of different ages, gender, race, and sexuality. No connection had been found between them no matter how deep Garcia dug. It was aggravating. It was like the UNSUB was completely indiscriminate, like he had no preference at all. Except, he had to have a preference. There had to be something tying the victims together...but what was it.

Spencer looked carefully at the victim board.

Four victims, two male, two female. The youngest was ten years old. The oldest was twenty-two. Each were abducted while doing normal, every day things like going to work, home, or shopping. They were all killed the same night they were abducted. All were smothered. All were gutted, except for victim four.

Spencer frowned. That was a big question right now. Why wasn't Julie Summers gutted like the rest of the victims? They were still waiting to hear back from the Medical Examiner. His frown deepened. For some reason, he was absolutely positive that whatever the ME found out would be the final clue, the final piece of the puzzle.

"JJ," Spencer called out, "Have you heard from the ME yet?"

"Actually, yes, a deputy just brought in a report from her. I haven't gotten the chance to look at it yet, but..."

Spencer grabbed the file from her hands and opened it, scanning his eyes across the pages quickly. Cause of death also asphyxiation. Likely smothered with a pillow. No signs of sexual assault. Few defensive wounds. All of that was the same as with the other victims. He skipped ahead, looking for something that stood out. There had to be...

"Oh," Spencer, dropping the file and ignoring how all the papers scattered across the floor. He rushed back over to the drawing board and looked over the information again.

Victim one, Megan Sparx was a college student who lived on campus, but at the time of her death she was staying with her parents. She'd been with them for a week and had missed all her classes during that week. Apparently this was something that happened every so often, but her professors were forgiving because she had a good reason. No one had said what that reason was.

Victim two, Nathan Miles had just arranged some time off of work. He'd made reservations at a local hotel for a week. His friends said that he often planned little getaways for himself, but this time he'd been extra excited because it would be the first time his boyfriend joined him on one such getaway.

Victim three, Jordan Rodriguez had missed school for a week, just like Megan Sparx. His parent's had said he was ill, but they hadn't said what that illness was nor had they taken him to see a doctor.

"Oh," Spencer said again, wanting to slap himself. How had they missed this? Probably because the dates didn't overlap and all the victims had done or planned different things but it was still an obvious connection and they had overlooked it repeatedly.

But now it had all come together thanks to the Medical Examiner's report. It all made sense now. Even the little things that Spencer had disregarded made sense now! A certain scent lingering in the air. The burning in his nose and the sneezing. The way Megan Sparx's parents swore her boyfriend would never hurt her even though Prentiss had mentioned he'd shown some hostility towards Derek. Derek was an alpha encroaching on his territory in a time of grieving. Another alpha couldn't help but feel hostile in such a situation. Spencer would bet anything that Megan Sparx was an omega, and he would make that same bet for Jordan Rodriguez and the other victims. It all came together because of one little detail.

Julie Summers had been exactly eight weeks pregnant.

The ME's report said Julie Summers was pregnant and if the UNSUB had known this, it might have been what caused his pattern break. But, it was already ruled that the UNSUB did not stalk his victims, so unless Julie had screamed out that she was pregnant in hopes of having her life spared, there was only one other way the UNSUB could have known.

Spencer could tell a person was pregnant within twenty-four hours of conception, as could Derek and about .4% of America. But Spencer and Derek and .4% of America were biologically different from others. They were Alphas and Omegas and everyone else were Betas.

The UNSUB wasn't killing indiscriminately. No, he was targeting Omegas. But the only way to recognize an omega was by scent. And only other alphas and omegas could actually smell the difference.

"It's an Alpha," Spencer stated, almost positive of his deductions.

"Impossible," Rossi said. "We've already determined that it was a single killer and not a pack. And the UNSUB grabbed the victims instead of coercing them."

"Not that kind of Alpha, right Pretty Boy?" Derek asked, walking over to stand next to Spencer by the drawing board, gently bumping their shoulders together before shifting away from him with such casual ease Spencer doubted anyone even noticed the little touch. He'd picked up the file that Spencer had dropped and gathered up all the papers. He looked over the pictures and information, then down at the file in his hands. Spencer could tell when he reached the same conclusion by the widening of his eyes. "But Alphas don't kill Omegas. It's not in our nature. Especially not like this." He stated as if that would make the evidence point in a different direction.

"An Unknown would. He wouldn't understand the sudden urges he got around certain people and that not understanding would anger him and that anger would make him retaliate."

"But killing Omegas?" The disbelief was heavy in Derek's voice.

"Will the two of you please stop speaking over our heads," Prentiss asked shortly.

"Actually," JJ piped in, "You and Rossi seem to be the only ones out of the loop."

"Then care to fill us in?" Rossi asked.

"Sorry," Spencer said, a little sheepish. "We're talking about Biological Alphas and Omegas."

"And that is?"

"For lack of better terms, a genetic condition that affects a small percentage of society, about point four percent of America and two percent of the world as a whole to be exact. A chemical imbalance in the brain leads to people being born as Alphas or Omegas."

"Just as the terms imply," Derek picked up, "an Alpha is an extremely dominant personality, a natural leader, with a strong protective instinct especially towards the submissive personality omega. Except it's more than personality affected by this. Omegas emit a scent that attracts alphas to them. This scent is stronger every two months when they go into Heat."

"Heat is exactly what you think it is," Spencer continued. "From the moment they're born, omegas have a nagging urge to find an alpha and mate and produce offspring. They start emitting their scent during their first Heat, telling all alphas around that they are ready to be mated."

Derek cut in, "This sometimes causes problems. Omegas have been known to go into Heat at ages as young as seven. Most of the time, their ten during their first Heat; much too young to be mated."

"There're special laws in place for such cases," Spencer said. "Their parents are also tasked with taking special precautions to protect them, like pulling them out of school during their Heat, such as the case with Jordan Rodriguez."

"But the scent of a Heat lingers for a day or two after the Heat actually ends and sometimes it can be smelled a day or two before it begins."

"Besides the scent, there are some other common traits between Alphas and Omegas. Studies have shown that Biological Alphas tend to be more solidly built, and both stronger and faster than others. They also tend to be employed in fields where they can protect others and show they're ability to care and provide for their families, such as law enforcement or firefighting or the military in a position that wouldn't keep them away from home for too long. Omegas, on the other hand, tend to be smaller and weaker, as well as more nurturing. They tend to take jobs where they can work with children or help others, like teaching or nursing. Also, male Biological Omegas have the ability to conceive and carry children as easy as any female."

There was a pause to let that sink in, before Derek took over speaking. "Generally, alphas don't kill omegas, but there are two situations when they might: Ferals and Unknowns. Ferals are alphas who have lost their omega, usually in a very traumatic way and more often than not leaving behind no children. In something resembling a psychotic break, they begin searching for someone to take the place of their omega. They find omegas whose scents appeal to them, but when they realize it's not quite right, they kill."

"All alphas can smell omegas, but they're not attracted to all omegas. It's in the scent. The scent tells how compatible you are and whether or not you'd have good, healthy, strong children together. The more appealing the scent, the more compatible, the more attractive. Ferals have already found the omega they are most compatible with and they were happy together. No one else can fully take their place so they try to find someone, but they can't. They feel affronted and kill the omega that had the audacity to even try. And only with their death do the alpha have their omega, because only then are the smells exactly the same. In death, we're all the same. There's no scent that tell us compatibility. There's only the smell of death."

"The other situation is Unknowns. There are rare occasions when an alpha or omega does not know they're an alpha or omega. An omega finds out as soon as they have their first Heat. An alpha can go their whole lives not knowing what they are until they meet their first omega."

"This is our UNSUB. An alpha who didn't know he was an alpha."

"But how does not knowing he's an alpha lead him to killing the people his genetically predispositioned to protect?" Prentiss asked.

"Meeting an omega for the first time can be pretty... disconcerting. Your body reacts in ways it never has before. You're simultaneously presented with the urge to take this person and hide them away and protect them forever, and to throw them down on the nearest flat surface and have your wicked way with him until they are heavy with your child. And its worse the more compatible you are with the omega. And even worse than that if it's near or during their heat. The pheromones released during heat clouds all sense of judgment and if the omega isn't already mated with an alpha or locked up tightly, any passing alpha with a weak will would rape first and ask questions later."

"That's horrible."

"That's the way things are."

"How come the two of you know so much about all of this."

Spencer blushed and shuffled his feet, slightly embarrassed.

"Reid is an omega and Morgan's an alpha," Hotch answered for them.

"Really?"

"Hotch is an alpha, too," Morgan threw out.

"Technically, yes," Hotch admitted, "but due to a case of bacterial meningitis in my teens, I can't scent other alphas and omegas so I'm exempt from the hard part. But we can discuss all of this later, in the mean time I think we're ready to give the profile."

…

"Our UNSUB is a Biological Alpha. That means he's meant to be bigger, stronger, and faster than Betas."

"Anyone who is not a Biological Alpha or Omega is considered a Beta, even those of Alpha Male Personality if they're not Biological, then they're technically Betas."

"The UNSUB only targets Omegas, which gives him a very small victim pool. Considering he had not known he was an Alpha before now and this city seems to have a larger than average concentration of Omegas, he's most likely not from around here. He moved to this town no more than two weeks before the first murder happened."

"He's a white male in his early to mid-twenties, because outside of complete social isolation, it's impossible for an alpha to go a decade without meeting an omega. Early teens are around the time Alphas come into their alpha traits. It is unlikely that the UNSUB is a teenager simply because a non-psychotic teenager wouldn't respond in this way."

"What makes you think he's not psychotic? I mean, he's murdered four people."

"Being a Biological Alpha or Omega is sometimes considered to be a psychological disorder in its own right and one that's not co-morbid. The chance of developing a disorder on the psycho-social pathology scale while being a BA is less than point-zero-zero-two percent."

"So this man who gutted four people is not a psychopath?"

"He's very confused and angry. He feels threatened and betrayed by his own body and mind. This has made him violent. When we find him, don't be surprised if he comes in without a fight, if he's distraught, crying even. He'll be remorseful, while at the same time showing a lack of understanding about what he's done. He's most likely secluded himself away somewhere, trying to control his urges."

"His urge to kill?"

"No. He doesn't have an urge to kill. He has a strong sense of morals. He knows right from wrong. There are things he'd thought he would never even consider doing. Things he considers to be a fate worse than death. The urge to rape, and claim, and bond, or just to engage in sexual acts is what he's trying to control. The victims were omegas a couple of days before or after their heats. They brought up these urges in him. He's weak-willed, a rarity among BA's but they exist and this weakness of will makes them dangerous."

"Our UNSUB killed because he thought it was better than the alternative."

"Are you saying that if he hadn't become a killer, we would be dealing with a serial rapist?"

"Actually, no. He would have only raped once. Victims one and three were still so close to their Heat that being raped by an alpha would have pushed them back into it. He would have spent the entirety of this triggered Heat with them and bound them to him. He would have then spent the rest of his life protecting them and trying to make up for his misdeed. He would have attempted to have a normal relationship with them, and they would have given him a fair chance at making it work. If, by chance, the omegas rejected the bond, then they would have come in and reported the rape and all you would have needed was to send an alpha to follow his scent."

"If he would have raped one of the other two, he would have turned up dead shortly after. Victims two and four were already in committed relationships with an alpha. They're Alphas would have avenged their rape and legally wouldn't be held accountable for their actions."

"How come the Alphas didn't avenge their murders?"

"Because they were dead. And the scent of death overwhelmed the scent of the perpetrator. And without that scent, they would have been unable to find him."

"I don't understand why these people aren't considered psychotic. They're rapists and murderers and they can get away with it. That's wrong. They need to be locked away. All of them."

"This team contains two Biological Alphas and a Biological Omega. They've never raped anyone or killed anyone in cold blood. The number of rapists and murderers among the Biological Alpha-Omega community is _one_ every five years. The number of rapists and murderers this team profiles on average is _four_ every three months.* If not for the omega on this team, we would still be in that room, staring at the drawing board, and trying to piece together a puzzle that doesn't have all it's pieces. The number of people saved by the alphas on this team alone outnumbers the number of people victimized by alphas in the last twenty years. That says nothing for the people saved by alphas working in law enforcement across the country and all over the world including the ones working at this very precinct that you really just offended."

Silence.

"There's one more part of the profile we need to discuss before we let you go. There's a strong likelihood that the UNSUB will either turn himself in within the next few days, or tell someone what he's done and they'll turn him in. His actions, the guilt and the part of him that rejects harming omegas, is eating at him. He's not going to be able to keep it to himself much longer. Pay close attention to all the calls we get on the tip-line from here on. Also, the chance of there being another victim before he's brought in is very slim."

"Why would he turn himself in now when he didn't before?"

"The space between his last two murders was much smaller than in previous instances. Right now, he's terrified. He's scared of himself. He's scared of what he's done and what he might do. He's not going to be able to live with it much longer. He has a strong sense of morals and knows that he's done wrong and everything inside of him is screaming that he's betrayed himself and those omegas and that he needs to be punished. He'll want justice for the deaths he's caused. This whole time, he's wanted justice. He's wanted to be caught. Eventually, he's going to stop waiting and bring himself forward instead, because that's the right thing to do."

…

After giving the profile, catching the UNSUB was easy. The day after the profile was delivered, an anonymous caller contacted the tip line and reported that their friend had confessed to the crimes before barricading himself inside an abandoned house. Twenty-three year old Jeremy Klein came in without a fight. He'd recently moved to this town from New Mexico to stay with a friend for a while after the death of his parents in a car crash. He'd only been in town for four days before committing the first murder.

The team boarded the jet and were on their way back to Quantico that same night.

"So how come we didn't know about you guys being alphas and omegas?" Emily asked on the jet. She was sitting across from Spencer at one of the tables, shuffling cards for their game of poker. Derek sat next to Spencer, reclining against his seat and staring out of the window. JJ sat on one of the benches, reading a book. Rossi and Hotch sat at another table talking quietly among themselves. Everyone's attention was gained with Emily's question.

"It never came up," Derek answered, sitting up straight in his seat and adjusting his position, subtly brushing his leg against Spencer's as he did so.

"Hotch knew because he's Unit Chief, Garcia knew because she knows everything, and JJ knew because she got me drunk once," Spencer added.

"So I have to get you drunk in order to learn anything about you?"

"You can try, but I'm not exactly a lightweight, and I really don't like drinking."

"Lace his coffee. With the amount of sugar he puts in it, he'd never be able to tell."

"That's actually an extremely dangerous suggestion. The caffeine in coffee is a stimulant, it makes the brain speed up. And alcohol is a depressant, meaning the brain slows down. Mixing the two would simultaneously make the brain try to speed up and slow down which could lead to deadly results."

"Tell that to the fools who like to chase their vodka with energy drinks."

"Anyway, back to his alpha and omega thing. What exactly does that mean to the two of you? Are you bonded? I don't mean to each other, just in general."

"I'm considered claimed, but not bonded," Spencer admitted.

"What the difference between claimed and bonded?"

"Claiming is something of a precaution. It's when an alpha leaves his scent on an omega as a way to warn other alphas off. It's like saying 'this is mine, don't touch' or 'this person is under my protection, harm them at your own risk.' It's often used as a way to protect children who aren't ready to be bonded. Usually, the first person to claim a child is a member of their family. Even though it takes repeated physical contact to make a claim, a claiming isn't sexual and it isn't permanent and it in no way implies a relationship. It can be created with just casual touches, like shaking hands, ruffling hair, touching arms, or hugging. Though, sometimes an alpha claims an omega while they're courting. By smelling like an alpha, other alphas are deterred from approaching an omega."

"There's also a kind of physical and mental side to being claimed. There's a low level subservience, for example. Omegas want to please alphas and they rely on alphas to tell them what needs to be done to please them. Following an alpha's orders is tied to the reward pathway in the brain. It brings us pleasure. Not saying that omegas blindly follow all alpha's orders, but the inclination is there. Especially orders that pertains to protecting oneself. Also, if the alpha that claimed me was to suddenly leave me and there was no alpha around to take his place, I would experience an omega drop."

"What's an omega drop?"

"In order for a claiming to take place, an alpha and omega will have had to spend a certain amount of time together. They become very accustomed to each others' presence, to the point that if they're apart for too long the omega can become physically ill. That illness is called an omega drop. The only treatment is for them to be with an alpha, preferably the one who claimed them, but any would do."

"So, you're physically dependent on being around an alpha?"

"Yes and no, it's actually quite a bit more complicated than what we're making it out to be. An omega can, eventually, recover from a drop without the aid of another alpha. It takes longer and it's a horrible process, but an omega of strong will can adapt to having no alpha in their life. If they never had an alpha to begin with, they wouldn't even experience the drop first."

"Tell me about Heats," Prentiss said. "What's it like? What's its purpose?"

Spencer blushed and squirmed in his seat. How was he supposed to explain what a week of being horny and desperate was like? "Heats are... exactly what they sound like. It's a period when Omegas are most fertile, like ovulation in woman, and their bodies demand for them to find a mate and get pregnant. It's a dizzying, hot, hellish week. It's mostly a haze; even with an eidetic memory, it's hard to recall everything that week. There's a ninety-eight percent chance of successful conception during that week. Also, it's physically exhausting if you go through it without an alpha for extended periods of time. Your body is demanding a mate and is calling out for one desperately. It's Hell."

"How come you never go into Heat while we're on a case? With the unpredictability of our job, it's kind of hard to schedule regular time off."

"I actually have gone into Stage One Heat on a case before. But, I carry around Omegesterin for those occasions. It's a Heat Suppressant. If taken during Stage One Heat, it can temporarily halt the process, giving me about two extra weeks. Unfortunately, at the end of those two weeks, the post-suppressant Heat is much worse... much more intense than a standard Heat. Thankfully, I don't have too many instances where I have to rely on suppressants."

"Is there a suppressant that can stop a Heat cycle completely instead of just postponing it?"

"There was research into creating something like that. The side-effects were...trying to stop a Heat completely is like trying to stop regular bowel movements, or trying to stop you lungs from craving air. It can be deadly. As it is, even temporary suppressants like the one I take aren't approved for repeated long-term use."

"Alright, you said the purpose of Heats is to get pregnant, right? But Julie Summers was already pregnant, how come she was targeted when the UNSUB was targeting people near their Heats?"

"The first Heat cycle after conception is a pseudo-Heat. Your body releases the same pheromones as it does during Heat, but in much lower doses. It's like the body is just making sure you're pregnant, in case something has happened such as a miscarriage, it can slip into a full Heat whether quickly."

"OK. What about a bond? You explained claiming, what's bonding?"

"Is it just about sex?"

"A bond is so much more than sex," Derek said, "it's forming a deep, unbreakable connection between two people. As an alpha going into a bond, I promise to always protect you and our family above all. I will fight to keep you safe, and lay down my life before I ever let harm befall you. I will do my best to provide for you, even if it means I have to go without. I will always put you first. I will listen to you and advise you. I will never betray you. I will do whatever it takes to make you happy. I will be strong where you cannot be, and I will let you be strong when I cannot, for I will acknowledge both your strength and your shortcomings just as I wish you to acknowledge mine. I will place on you no limitations, nor demand of you any changes that you yourself do not want. And I will love you to the ends of the earth and back again."

Some time while he was speaking, Derek's eyes met Spencer's and Spencer was completely frozen under his gaze. Something like electricity filled the air between them and it was all Spencer could do to keep a blush off his face and force his eyes away.

"But the forming of a bond is sexual," Spencer said, trying to fight down his embarrassment. Derek always made things so intense between them, it made his head foggy and his body heated. "In order to be bonded, an alpha stays with an omega through the week of their Heat. On occasions, when an omega isn't safe enough and they end up being raped by an alpha, their body can reject the bond. There seems to be a compatibility requirement or something, no one is exactly sure, for a bond to form. It's like our body won't force us to be with someone if there isn't even a small chance of us having chosen before. Only about two percent of omegas get raped during their Heat and of those two percent fifty-two percent result in a bond. Afterward, both the alpha and the omega can become physically ill if they're intimate with someone else."

"So bonds really are unbreakable?"

"As far as I know. No one has ever actually tried to break one before. I assume that they can be broken in a way similar to removing a claim. Another alpha would have to be on standby to keep the omega from experiencing a Drop."

"So, Reid, the Alpha that claimed you, is that protection or is he courting you?"

Spencer blushed and glanced at Derek out of the corner of his eye. "A bit of both, I think."

"What about you, Morgan? Made any claims or bonds?"

"I've claimed the one I want. I'm waiting for him to be ready for the bond."

Spencer looked down at the cards in his hands as a way to avoid Derek's gaze. He had two aces and two kings. "I think I'm going to go all in."


	4. Coffee Shop Interrogations

**UchiSays:** Hello Dearies! First, I would like to comment on the sheer amazingness of seeing my reviews jump from 18 to 29 overnight and then continue to increase as more days passed. I has no words to express how wonderful that made me feel. Thank you all so very much. I really appreciate all the reviews. Second, only Sake-Chama commented on something that I totally meant to comment on myself: the fact that I write long scenes of dialogue without mentioning who is saying what. This is just part of my writing style, and I know it bothers some people but I don't feel the inclination to change with because it works better for me this way. It's not laziness, it's just how the story writes itself. Third, I know that I've mentioned having a beta in the last couple of chapters, but there was still some grammar/spelling mistakes present. That's all me and not Lessie's fault all. She's an extremely capable Beta who sent me all chapters I wrote back at the same time and as they sat on my computer waiting for their turn to be posted, I went through and added/changed some things and Lessie never got to see the changes and all the grammar screw-ups they contained before they were posted. So yeah. Lastly, I'm glad for so many positive reviews, keep them coming and I'll keep trying to write something worth reading.

**UchiDedicates: AllenxME, **as you know I haven't dedicated individual chapters to people since Catching Snow. It's something I tried but didn't like doing too much. But I'm going to make an exception this time, just for you. I love seeing old fans of mine following me into areas-unknown and still showing their support, it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. So, this chapter is for you. And when I ever get around to updating Awkward Silence, that chapter will be for you to.

**Kudos, once more, to my awesome beta SmcdsShipper19. **

* * *

**Chapter Four: Coffee Shop Interrogations**

Spencer was almost hesitant to step into Roasted the day after they'd returned to Quantico. He knew Aimee hadn't forgotten about the conversation she'd overheard between him and Derek the last time he was there and she would without a doubt pounce on him demanding details and gossip and asking inappropriate questions and making shameless suggestions. Because that was the type of person Aimee was and Spencer had witnessed her behaving in such away with some other customers and she had always shown an unhealthy interest in his sex life. Still, the promise of the caramel latte with cinnamon sprinkles that she was undoubtedly going to give him on the house as a way of bribing him into sharing dirty details was too much to pass up. And maybe Spencer _wanted_ to gossip with her, that would explain why he'd left the house a half hour before he needed to. He opened the door and stepped into the sweet smelling cafe.

"Spencer!" Aimee called out as soon as she caught sight of him. Both she and her mother, Susan, were working today and there was a small line of customers in front of Spencer, but Aimee didn't seem to care. "You take a seat right over there and I'll bring you over a caramel latte with sprinkles in a minute, so we can have a much needed discussion."

She moved like a tornado, steaming the milk for his latte and adding the caramel and two shots of espresso. She dripped some heavy whipping cream on top and shook some cinnamon sprinkles on that. She then made another for herself, making hers with chai instead of espresso. "Going on break, ma!" She called to Susan as she stepped around the counter and made her way over to Spencer.

"Where's Jillian?" Spencer asked in an attempt to delay the inevitable. It was a legitimate question though, Susan usually watched Jill while Aimee manned the shop and vise-versa though sometimes they brought her with them while they both worked the shop, but right now they were both at the shop and the baby was nowhere to be seen.

"Her asshole father has her for the week. I'm giving him two days, tops, before he brings her back saying something came up and he can't keep her. Mom is giving him four days; she has more faith in him than I do."

"So he's making an effort to be in her life now? That's nice."

"Not really. He got a letter from the child support office. After demanding a DNA test, he demanded joint custody, trying to get out of paying as much money as possible."

"He sounds like a very...demanding man."

"Something like that. And you think you're a clever man, Dr. Reid, but you're mistaken. I'm not letting you steer this conversation away from that extra tall caramel mocha with whip that was all over you last time you were here."

"He wasn't all over me."

"But he wanted to be. If I remember correctly, he wanted to take you to bed and rock your world."

Spencer blushed and took a sip of his latte. "You know, eavesdropping is very rude."

"Spencer, dear, there was only three of us here, and this shop isn't very large. One can't help what they overhear."

"I second that," Susan said, pulling up a chair next to her daughter and sitting a cup of cafe au lait on the table in front of her. She'd seen to all the customers and most of them had departed, except for a few who'd settled down at other tables in the shop. "I may never be here when something interesting happens, but my daughter kindly fills me in on all the missed details. Aimee has been talking of nothing but your tall, dark, and sexy boyfriend for over a week now."

"He's not my boyfriend. Derek is a colleague of mine."

"The FBI has hunks like that? Maybe I should consider getting a badge or committing a crime. Whichever gets him knocking on my door first."

Spencer couldn't help but chuckle softly at that. "Commit a crime and trust me, he'll be kicking your door down."

"And I'll be waiting for him, on the couch wearing nothing but a g-string made of whipped cream."

"Aimee!" Spencer couldn't tell whether Susan was amused or appalled at her daughter's words. Spencer, himself, was mortified.

"Sorry. It's been a while since... well anyway, all I have is my daydreams since _Derek _seems to have eyes for _Spencer_ here. And _Spencer_ isn't sharing the dirty details."

"There are no dirty details to share. We're colleagues. We chase down psychopaths and get shot at. He watches my back, and I do my best to watch his."

"He's an alpha and you're an omega, there has to be more to it than that."

Susan was an omega and had recognized Spencer as kindred the first time he'd entered the shop. Aimee had been dying to find him an alpha ever since.

"Just because we're alpha and omega doesn't mean we're sleeping together. That's like saying a man and woman can't be friends without having sex with each other."

"Spencer, you're twenty-what years old and haven't found yourself a nice alpha and settled down with yet?" Susan let a bit of disapproval slip into her voice. "If this Derek guy can keep up with you, and has already spent years watching your back, why not go for it?"

"I'm not ready to settle down, yet. Derek has claimed me and made his interest known and says he's willing to wait for me. That's enough for now."

"How long do you plan on making the boy wait? How long do you think he's willing to wait? Unless that's your plan: make him wait until he grows tired of it and moves on so you can go on telling yourself whatever lie it is you're telling that makes you not want this."

"I'm not telling any lies," Spencer stated. He was suddenly regretting coming here.

"Then what are you doing?" Aimee demanded. "Dr. Spencer Reid, you are a very intelligent guy with a kind heart, a great personality, and wonderful salary. Not to mention you're not half bad looking, in fact you're pretty fucking attractive. You're a great catch. And I know for a fact that there are men lined up around the block dangling their lines, so why the hell aren't you biting?"

"I'm not ready to be a trophy on someone's wall. And if I jump into a bonding right now, that's all I'll be. And I'm definitely not ready for a picket fence and two-point-five kids."

Susan frowned. "You of all people, Spencer Reid, should know that omegas are more than trophies and broodmares. That way of thinking I've learned to expect and accept from ignorant people and most Betas, but you are neither so where did that attitude come from?"

Spencer let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed his hands over his face. The door of the shop opened and closed behind him. "Someone will be with you in a second," Aimee called out to the customer that just entered, not taking her eyes away from Spencer. All her former playfulness and teasing was gone from her voice. "Well, Dr. Reid, we're waiting. Where'd that attitude come from?"

"What are you two doing to my Pretty Boy?" A voice said from behind Spencer before the young doctor could speak.

Spencer almost wanted to sigh in relief at the sound of Derek's voice, saved from these harpies interrogation. "Derek," he said, turning to his teammate with a smile. "What are you doing here?"

"That scone I got here last time was delicious and from the way you downed that coffee I can only assume it's just as good, so I decided to pick up some for the team."

"That is so kind of you," Aimee said before Spencer could open his mouth. She got to her feet and stepped around the table, extending her hand for Derek to shake. "We weren't properly introduced the last time you were here. I'm Aimee, a friend of Spencer's and co-owner of this little establishment. This is Susan, my mother, another friend of Spencer's, and the other owner of this little...e..sta...blish...ment..." Her peppy tone vanished from her voice and her speaking slowed down and anger began to set in as she looked over Derek's shoulder at the door. "And that's my asshole ex-boyfriend and my daughter, Jillian. Excuse me for a second." She stepped around Derek and headed toward the door just as it opened to admit a young man carrying a car seat and a diaper bag.

Spencer watched as Aimee stormed across the little cafe with a glare that could kill on her face, but instead of confronting her ex, her expression melted into a fond smile as she peered into the car seat at her daughter. "Hey, Jilly-Bean," she cooed. "Why aren't you strapped in properly?" She asked, sending a hard look at the baby's father. She picked up the little girl and talked to her excitedly and Jillian happily cooed and babbled back. "Do you want to go to Nana while mommy talks to daddy? Go to Nana while mommy talks to daddy." Susan rushed over and took the baby. Aimee turned to her ex with an angry look and was met with an equally angry look. She all but dragged him out of the shop.

"Is she going to be ok?" Derek asked concernedly.

"Honest? I'm more worried about him," Susan said. "Here, Spencer, hold Jilly-Bean while I get your coffee and scones."

"What?" Spencer asked, eyes widening. He fumbled to properly hold the baby thrust into his arms. He'd grown used to holding babies after he became Henry's godfather, but having one suddenly given to him caught him off guard.

Susan didn't give Spencer as second look. She'd made him hold Jillian before, citing that he was an omega it was in his nature to know how to care for children. She placed her hands on her broad hips and set Derek with a hard, calculating look. "So you're the Derek I've been hearing so much about." She looked him up and down. "My daughter's description did not do you justice." She turned quickly on her heel and headed over to the counter. "I'll box up an assortment of scones while you decide what type of coffee you want for your team."

Spencer was distracted by the baby in his arms who had just grabbed a handful of his hair and was pulling it towards her mouth. "No, no, no," Spencer chastised softly, gently unwrapping her hand from his hair and letting her grip onto his finger instead. Jillian gurgled happily. Spencer smiled at her and began talking to her, softly, about random things. He didn't know how much time had passed until he looked up and saw Derek and Susan watching him. Derek was holding a box of scones and on the counter were two four-cup holders with a total of seven cups of coffee. Spencer couldn't quite read the expressions of Derek and Susan's faces, but for some reason they made him blush.

"You're good with her," Derek stated. "Whatever happened to the Reid Effect?"

"The what effect?" Susan asked, taking her granddaughter from the blushing doctor.

"Pretty Boy, here, has an unfaltering ability to make dogs bark and growl at him and kids cry and scream with just his presence. Down at the office, we call it the Reid Effect."

Spencer's blushed deeper.

"Well, let's hope he's cured of that now. Wouldn't want him to make his own kids scream all the time. Do you have a dog, Derek?"

"Yeah, a pit-bull named Clooney."

"Does Clooney bark and growl at Spencer?"

"Don't know. Spencer always insists he be locked in the laundry room before he steps foot into the house."

"Well, you'll just have to introduce them slowly."

"Susan," Spencer said shortly. She thought she was slick, but her attempts at playing matchmaker were anything but subtle.

Susan smiled innocently. "Well, I don't mean to hold you two up. You better head on to work. Looks like you've missed your train, Spencer, though I'm sure Derek here won't mind giving you a lift."

Spencer rolled his eyes, but Derek just smiled. "I'll confess, I had an ulterior motive for coming here today. I was hoping to bump into Pretty Boy so I can offer him a ride and get the chance to talk to him."

"I don't give a damn!" Their attention was suddenly pulled towards Aimee, who was storming back into the shop with a look of fury etched across her face. "You screwed up, James! You screwed up in so many fucking ways, I've lost count and you only had her for thirty-two hours! You're not seeing her again until you get your shit together."

James followed behind her looking just as furious. "Don't walk away from me, Aimee!" He growled, grabbing her wrist in a grip tight enough to make her wince. Jillian started to cry.

"Let me go!" Aimee said, trying to yank herself free of his grip. He gripped her tighter and yanked her towards him.

"Hey," Derek called out, walking over to them. "I think you better let her go."

James gave him a cursory glance, before deeming him unimportant, which really surprised Spencer because no one the size of James ever thought someone the size of Derek was unimportant when it came time to choose sides for a fight. "Stay out of this. This is a private conversation between me and Aimee."

"No, it's not. Your private conversation took place outside the shop and outside of our hearing range. When Aimee walked through that door, it meant either the conversation was over or she no longer wished it to be private. Perhaps she felt slightly threatened by you, because she returned here where she knew two armed FBI agents more than willing to watch her back were. Either way, this conversation is over. Now let her go."

"FBI agent?" James asked, releasing Aimee and glaring at Derek, shifting his position to make himself look bigger, but he really couldn't measure up to Derek's height and bulk. "Right. You're just another nigger with a gun."

"And you're going to be just another dead man if you don't shut your fucking mouth," Susan stated, jostling the still crying Jillian around in her arms to try to silence her.

"And you're just another bitch!" James called back.

"Look, man," Derek said, "I think you better apologize to these ladies and get to stepping. I don't tolerate disrespect to women like that."

"I'm not afraid of you," James said.

"But you should be," Spencer replied. "Especially since there's currently four of us here against just one of you and we have the authority to kill you and make it look like self defense. We wouldn't even have to lie too much. We'll just say you came in here and grabbed Aimee. We warned you to back off. You refused. We warned you again. You released her and threatened us. We asked you kindly to leave. You refused. We warned you. You made a motion as if you were reaching for a weapon. We drew our own weapons and opened fire. There's two witnesses not involved in the confrontation," Spencer added nodding towards the two customers that were still in the shop, "and it looks it wouldn't take much at all to get them to go along with the story." Spencer was bluffing, they wouldn't open fire on an unarmed civilian unless they genuinely saw him as a threat, but James didn't know that.

"So you're crooked as cops as well?"

"And you're a poor excuse of a human being on top of being a deadbeat dad," Aimee said.

"Look, man, just back off," Derek said calmly. "Walk away and no one has to get hurt."

James seemed to be losing his steam in the face of having so many people against him. He glared for a second, before turning to Aimee and spitting out gruffly, "We'll talk later."

"Over the phone," Derek added, "because the next time you see her in person, I will also be present."

"You won't have this dog watching your back forever!" James growled, before turning and storming out of the shop.

Spencer felt himself immediately begin to relax once the offending man was out of sight.

"I hate that man," Aimee stated, taking her daughter from her mother. "Thank you, Derek, for standing up for me. You too Spencer."

"No problem," Derek pasted a grin on his face. "I'm always willing to help a beautiful lady."

Aimee grinned back roguishly. "Derek, do you by chance like whipped cream?"


	5. A Pet Project

**UchiSays: **Hello lovelies. Welcome to Chapter 5. I don't really have much to say other than I love you all and please keep the reviews coming.

My wonderful beta has been busy with real life and hadn't the time to edit this chapter, but I didn't want to put of posting it any longer. So any mistakes in this chapter are truly my own. I hope you can come back to my soon, Lessie.

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**Chapter Five: A Pet Project**

After Susan had wrangled a promise out of Derek to visit again soon, Spencer and Derek departed the coffee shop and got into Derek's car. "Those ladies are crazy," Derek said with a fond smile.

"Yeah, they're something else," Spencer agreed. "Take a bit of getting used to, though I think the BAU girls have us pretty acclimated to crazy."

"Ain't that the truth." Derek laughed and Spencer couldn't help but smile; he liked being able to make the other man laugh. "They seem to like you," Derek commented once he stopped laughing.

"Aimee likes everyone and Susan thinks I need to be mothered."

"Well, I like them; they take care of you."

Spencer smiled softly. "Maybe, one day, they'll like me enough to give me my coffee for free."

"Not likely, Pretty Boy, you'd put them out of business."

Spencer just rolled his eyes and took a sip of the coffee Derek had bought for him in addition to the coffee for the rest of the team.

"So, I wasn't lying when I mentioned my ulterior motives for going there today; there's something I want to talk to you about."

"Oh?" Spencer asked, wondering if he should be worried. After Aimee and Susan's interrogation, it would be just his luck that Derek wanted to have a deep discussion about their relationship.

"I was thinking about that last case. It had me wondering about a few things, thinking that something needs to change."

Spencer frowned. "Something like what?"

"What was it like for you growing up?" Derek asked instead of answering him.

Spencer's frowned deepened. "What do you mean?"

"As an omega, what was it like for you. With your mother, and your father, and graduating high school at age twelve, things couldn't have exactly been easy. But, being an omega on top of that, how did that affect things?"

Spencer pursed his lips thoughtfully. This wasn't something he'd talked about before. No one had ever actually asked him and he had never volunteered the information, but now Derek was asking and Spencer suddenly wanted to tell him.

"It wasn't easy," he agreed with Derek's assessment. "I had my first Heat when I was eight and a half. I had known I was an omega prior to that, but it was something I tucked into the back of my mind expecting it not to matter until I was much older. As far as I was concerned, it was just one more thing that made me different. I'll admit, I wasn't as eager to research the topic like I've been with other things. I only gave it a cursory glance over. As I said, I didn't expect to have to deal with it until I was much older. So, when the time of my Heat came, I had no idea what was going on. Thankfully, my dad was still around then and he'd been looking for the signs and made some arrangements. He had a friend of his claim me. Jared Clay, his name was. He was a firefighter. Nice man. He was good to me. And even after dad left us, Jared stayed around. He was kind of a second dad to me for a while. Until he left, too.

"My mother... she had her good days and her bad. I'd thought—well actually it was more of hoped—the kids at school would stop bullying me; that maybe an alpha would take me under his protection there simply because they didn't want to see an omega hurt. A futile hope. After my first Heat, I stopped avoiding the topic and researched it fervently. I needed to know everything about it, every little detail, every single study, every personal testimony, everything. I gathered all the information I could find, because I needed to know it all. I needed to know everything so I could understand myself and people like me. I think, mostly, it was the need to know that there were people like me out here somewhere so that maybe...maybe I wouldn't feel so alone."

There was silence in the car for a few seconds while they idled at a stop light. The light turned green and Derek pulled the car out into the intersection. "That's the thing that needs to change," Derek stated.

"What?" Spencer asked.

"That feeling of being alone. That's what needs to change. We all feel alone in the beginning. Some of us eventually find someone to let us know we're not, but in the beginning being an alpha or omega seems like a dark and lonely road to travel. People romanticize it, and yeah it can be romantic eventually, but at the start... The Youth Center in Chicago saved me in more ways than one. Not only did it get me off the bad path I was following, but I also met some other alphas there and a few omegas. It helped a lot. So, after this last case I was thinking, what if there was a youth center specifically for alphas and omegas? Imagine the good that would do. How it would help people. How it would change lives."

Spencer pursed his lips and let his mind drift. A youth center just for alphas and omegas? What would it have been like if such a thing had existed while he was growing up? There had been some Alpha-Omega support groups around, but they'd met infrequently and were more like social gatherings. Also the term "support group" was a bit off putting, it made it sound like a drug addiction or grief counseling program. Spencer had gone to two meetings before realizing they were no help to him at all.

But an entire youth center for alphas and omegas? A place where he could have gone to be with people just like him? People close to his age who understood what he was going through? An informal gathering place. He could have met other omegas. He could have met alphas. Maybe even nice alphas that attended the same school as him and were willing to stand up for him. Or an alpha willing to claim him after Jared had left so that Spencer wouldn't have had to experience the depths of an omega drop at the tender age of eleven, and then crawl his way out of it alone to stand on his own and go through so many years feeling that aching absence and having night terrors about the all consuming dark loneliness, like being at the bottom of a deep pit, that was the worse part of the drop. And if he'd had an alpha to take Jared's place, maybe Spencer wouldn't have been so terrified of letting another alpha close for fear of being left again. Then he probably would have opened up to Derek sooner and accepted his claim quicker and wouldn't have gone those agonizing years of being in the presence of an alpha he was compatible with but standing apart. And maybe...

His thoughts had drifted too far. He grasped hold of them as if they were on a tether and pulled them back to the subject at hand. An Alpha-Omega Youth Center. A place where people came together with no pretenses. Where they could be themselves and find support. And there would be different activities and programs catering to different people with different interests. And there would be educational meetings to help young omegas understand what to expect from their first Heat. And there would be a network of protection for omegas too young to mate but going into Heat, instead of leaving it up to parents alone. And omegas and alphas would interact. And they would become friends. And then a claim would form naturally and gradually and not out of necessity. And it would be a helpful claim. The alpha and omega would attend the same school, maybe, so that the protection was present and not just implied. And there would be betas present as well, if only to keep prejudice from forming. A community feeling between alphas and omegas without ostracizing betas.

It would be nice.

"Pretty Boy?" Derek called out, pulling Spencer from his thoughts. "You still with me, Pretty Boy?"

"Uh, yeah. Sorry. I was thinking an alpha-omega youth center would be a great idea. Wonder why no one ever thought of it before?"

"I'm sure someone else has came up with the idea, just didn't have the resources or just didn't know how to make it happen."

"And you do know how to make it happen?"

"Not exactly, but I'm sure our favorite Tech Annalist would be willing to take on a pet project and look into it for us. And, turned loose in a library, I'm sure it would take you all of ten minutes to figure it all out. I mean, if this is something you want to look into. I thought it could be something we did together. Something we both contributed to the world that isn't related to psychopaths."

Derek pulled the car to a stop in the Bureau's parking garage and turned to face Spencer. He almost looked shy, hesitant. As if a lot more than the fate of a new 'pet project' depended on Spencer's answer. Spencer smiled. "It is something I'd like to do. We'll need to figure out where we want the first one to open; that's assuming we're looking to start more than one all over the country. I'll look into what type of licensing is required and such. You can look into possible locations, finding a building of a suitable size, and if failing at that, constructing something and getting the right permits to do so."

Derek smiled as well, a little relief showing in his eyes. "This is going to take a lot of time and money," he stated, unfastening his seat belt and getting out of the car and grabbing the carrying cases of coffee. Spencer followed him with the box of scones. "We'll probably need some donations from some big-shots with cash. I'll get Penelope to look into people willing to donate or partner up with us."

"If we go through the channels of making it a public recreation center, we might be able to get some money from the city. But I think what we're looking to start should be a privately funded endeavor."

"I agree. I think we should open two at the same time to begin with, one in Chicago one in Vegas. Then we can gradually expand across the nation based on how well those to go."

Spencer nodded his agreement, but didn't speak. His mind had taken the idea and ran with it, examining it from every possible angle, sprouting statistics about children involved in extra-curricular activities outside of school, wondering what type of licensing a project like this would require, and... so much other stuff, Spencer needed to take a deep breath and start compartmentalizing his thoughts.

Before he knew it, he was standing in the middle of the bullpen being confronted by Penelope and JJ.

"Did you two just arrive together, again?" JJ asked.

"Derek Morgan, what do you have to say for yourself!" Penelope demanded.

Derek smiled. "Good morning, baby girl, I come bearing gifts."

"Coffee and scones for everyone," Spencer affirmed, holding up the box of scones for everyone to see.

"You shouldn't have." Emily had entered the bullpen just in time to hear that announcement. She headed straight over to Spencer and opened the box.

"Actually," Spencer said, "I didn't. This is Morgan's gift to you; I just happened to be at the coffee shop when he came to get it."

"A bribe is not going to make me forget that this is the second time the two of you have quote-unquote bumped into each other at a coffee shop. I've got my eye on both of you."

"And I'm sure you're enjoying the view," Emily stated, taking a bite of one of the scones. "Oh dear god, this is delicious. Where'd you get these? I haven't had a scone this good since I left France." She eagerly took another bite.

"You should try the coffee," Spencer said, setting the box of sweets down and grabbing his cup of coffee.

JJ and Penelope both helped themselves to scones while Derek sorted out whose coffee was whose. Soon the bullpen was filled with moans of appreciation.

"Why do I feel like I just walked into the middle of an orgy?" Rossi asked from the top of the stairs. He raised one eyebrow questioningly while he looked out over the team. Hotch stood next to him with a questioning look on his face as well.

"Shh," Penelope held up one finger and gave a scolding look towards the two men. "I'm having a food-gasm, don't ruin it."

Derek laughed. "I brought coffee and scones for the team," he said. "The girls seem to be enjoying it." There was another appreciative moan from Emily to accent his statement.

"These. Are. Sinful." Penelope stated.

"Good thing you're not a saint," Rossi chuckled, heading down the stairs and grabbing the coffee cup Derek extended towards him. Hotch followed him.

The Unit Chief took a sip of his coffee, but kept his face schooled and his reaction hidden. He picked up a scone and took a small bite.

"These are quite good," Rossi stated, since Hotch had once again concealed his reaction.

"Where'd you find these? Panera?" JJ asked.

"No, a little cafe run by some crazy women that seem to adore our little genius as much as we do."

Spencer blushed, feeling as if he'd suddenly been put on the spot. "It's a place near my apartment that I frequent. It's small and family run, so they make it their goal to remember all repeat customers."

"Which is why they introduced themselves as your friends and let you hold their baby."

"They're nice people," Spencer stated, suddenly feeling defensive. He hadn't realized it before, but he'd come to think of Roasted as something that was _his_. Something outside of the BAU that belong to him. Like Derek had his rental properties, Spencer had his morning visits to that little cafe. Everyone had something or someone that defined them outside of work; things that sometimes got a brief mention by the others, but was still uniquely theirs. JJ had Will and Henry. Penelope had Kevin and role play games. Rossi had this three ex-wives and his writing. Hotch had Jack. Spencer didn't know what Emily had, but he was sure she had something as well.

And Spencer had Roasted. And, while the BAU was his family, Aimee and Susan and little Jillian were his friends. And Roasted was his place. And he suddenly felt that if he walked in there one day and found the team there gathered for coffee, he'd lose part of himself. He hadn't been bothered by Derek's sudden appearance there, because on some level that felt right, as if Derek was meant to be a part of his private life, but the others... Spencer was sure he was being irrational, but this is how he felt. He didn't want to share the little niche he'd carved for himself with the team, he wanted it to just be his.

Hotch cleared his throat. "Don't you all have work to do?"

Spencer let out a mental 'thank you' as the group dispersed and everyone forgot about learning the location of the little coffee shop under the weight of the amount of paper work that had piled up over the last few weeks.


	6. Pinky Promise

**UchiSays: **Hey beautiful people. Please don't murder me for the unplanned disappearance. In the last month, I've dealt with illness, Merlin fic addiction, party planning, depression, Teen Wolf fic addiction, and the worst case of writers block you've ever seen. Sorry. You guys don't know how spoiled you are. You're accustomed to semi-regular updates and chapters twice the length of what I usually write. You've got it good. But it's because you're all totally worth it and I love you so much, so please continue to love me and not hold unplanned absences against me and please continue to review, I beg of you. Right, on to other matters.

The wonderful Lenayuri is translating this story into Spanish. Much thanks to her for that. If any of you are Hispanophones, you should go and give her some love. The link can be found on my profile.

The awesome SmcdsShipper19 is back in action as my beta. Much thanks to her as well.

I promise to **try** to have the next chapter up in a much more timely matter.

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**Chapter Six: Pinky Promise**

"Hi Susan," Spencer said as he stepped up to the counter in Roasted.

"Wow," Susan said with a look of faux surprise on her face. "You've been in here every day this week. Did the villains of the world all of a sudden decide to take a vacation?" It had been a week since the team had returned home from the omega killer case, and there was a rare slow period going on at the BAU. Everyone had managed to catch up on their paper work, but aside from a few consultations, there hadn't been any new cases.

"It seems that way," Spencer said, watching as Susan moved around behind the counter preparing a cup of coffee for him even though he hadn't ordered yet.

Susan caught his curious gaze and smiled at him. "We're trying out some new flavors to add to the menu. Everyone who comes in get's a courtesy cup of the trial flavor of the day. You just have to tell us what you think of it." She spurted some whipped cream on top of the coffee in the cup and dripped some strawberry syrup over that. "This is our first trial flavor, a Neapolitan Latte. Try it."

Spencer picked up the small cup and took a tiny sip. "It's sweet," he stated. It tasted a bit like melted Neapolitan ice cream, only hot and with coffee in it. It seemed to be a latte made with cocoa powder, strawberry syrup and a vanilla creamer, in addition to the shot or espresso.

"'Sweet' from you is a compliment of the highest order considering how much sugar you put in your normal coffee. But sweet is also a way of ducking around the question of quality. So, is the coffee good or bad? Do you like it?"

"It's different," Spencer said, taking another small sip. "I like it. Neapolitan ice cream is my favorite."

Susan smiled and scribbled something down on a piece of paper by the register. "Alright, thank you for your opinion. What else can I get for you today?"

At that moment, Spencer's phone vibrated. He set his coffee cup down on the counter and dug the phone out of his messenger's bag. He sighed when he saw the words on the screen. "I think this will have to do for the day Susan, the villains' vacation is over."

Susan frowned. She didn't approve of his choice in career. She thought it was too dangerous of a field for an omega. But at the same time, she was proud of him for making his own path and proving that omegas could be more than housewives and schoolteachers and showing that they weren't as defenseless as people seemed to think. "Alright. You be careful, you hear. No foolish acts of heroics. We want you coming home to us. And tell Derek the same."

"Yes ma'am," Spencer said, stuffing his phone back in his bag and picking up the cup of Neapolitan coffee. He called a goodbye to Susan, as he rushed out the door. He knew she was still frowning at him when he left.

…

Spencer was the last to arrive at the office, and he rushed across the bullpen and into the meeting room as fast as he could to avoid keeping the others waiting any longer. He pushed through the door and stumbled on his untied shoestring, causing him to blush to his ears. "Sorry I'm late," he mumbled, rushing over to the open seat beside Derek and being careful to avoid stepping on his shoestring again.

"You would technically be on time if this case hadn't come up," Prentiss stated.

Spencer made a noncommittal sound in response to that as he set his coffee cup down on the table. Derek's fingers brushed over his as the black man reached out a picked up the cup. Spencer fought down a blush as he watched Derek sipping from his coffee. Derek frowned and shot the cup a confused look. "What's this? It isn't the stuff you usually drink."

Spencer reached out and grabbed the cup away from him, ignoring the brush of Derek's thumb over his wrist as he did so. "It's _my_ Neapolitan Latte," he stated, his voice carrying a hint of chastisement. He did not like sharing his coffee. Derek knew that and he was pushing at boundaries that didn't need pushing when he had taken the cup.

"Guys," Hotch cut in tersely.

Derek immediately bit back whatever he was about to say in reply to Spencer's words and turned forward in his seat. Spencer slid his coffee cup across the table so that it was resting on the other side of him, next to Prentiss instead of Derek, and faced forward in his seat.

Once JJ was certain she had everyone's attention, she picked up the remote off the table and began presenting the case. "This is eleven year old Chalandra Knowles," JJ explained. Spencer looked at the smiling face on the school photo of the pretty little black girl. Sometimes, he hated how the pictures always showed smiling and happy faces. The simple fact that the pictures were included in the files his team discussed in this room and on their numerous flights meant that the person really had no reason to be smiling at that moment because something terrible had undoubtedly happened to them. "She was reported missing two hours ago from her home in Colorado. She's been missing about three hours." JJ continued as if to prove Spencer's stray thought correct. "Her disappearance has the same MO of five other child abductions in Colorado in the last two and a half years."

She pressed the remote and Spencer frowned at the collage of pictures showing five other smiling children.

"Ten year old Stacie Chambers went missing from her home two and half years ago. Eleven year old Kaylee Montgomery went missing from her home two years ago. Eleven year old Rain Redfern went missing one and a half years ago from her home. Ten year old Beatrice Fernandez, one year ago. And ten year old Jacqueline Yap, six months. All were the only children of single, working mothers. They were abducted when they were home alone because they're mom was working. Their bodies were found within seventy-two hours, in local playgrounds with a pretty distinct signature."

"The rest of the information can be discussed on the plane," Hotch cut in. "Wheels up in fifteen minutes."

…

Morgan claimed the seat next to Spencer on the jet, gently elbowing him in the side to get his attention and shooting a large smile his way. Spencer returned with a small, barely seen smile of his own, before turning back around and opening the dossier to begin reading about the past victims.

Out of the corner of his eye, Spencer noticed Prentiss raise her hand to her mouth and start chewing on her thumb nail while staring intently at the pictures spread out on the table. Her face was a mask of barely veiled confusion and annoyance.

"Something wrong, Prentiss?" Spencer asked.

"It's these dresses," she said, picking up the picture of Kaylee Montgomery and looking closer at it. "I've seen them before, I just can't remember where." She pulled all the crime scene photos of the first five victims from her file and laid them out on the table in a line. Each of the girls were wearing a dress that stereotyped their race: a pilgrim dress on victim one, a Victorian era gown on victim two, a Native American style dress on victim three, a traditional Hispanic fiesta dress on victim four, and a kimono on victim five. Their hair had been done postmortem to suit their outfits and so had their makeup. They'd each been laid carefully on the ground, not really posed but not just dumped either.

"They have too much detail to be just another set of dime-a-dozen Halloween costumes, but not enough intricacies to be custom made."

"They explain away the crossing of racial lines, at least. The UNSUB picks each victim to play a certain role," Morgan stated,

"Could the UNSUB be trying to make a racial statement?"

"I don't think so. Usually racism is targeted towards specific minorities, this is more like he's trying to get one of each race."

"Collecting one of each," Prentiss mumbled, almost inaudible. "That's it!" She said louder. "That's where I've seen the dresses before. I've seen them on dolls. Collectables."

"Dolls?"

"The victims dresses are a life size replication of the dresses worn by the True America Dolls Classic Collection," Prentiss clarified. "It's a collection of seven dolls, all of a different race. They're supposed to make a statement about how America is a mixing pot of different races and cultures, so all the dolls are listed as American while at the same time they're dressed to show pride in their ethnic background. My mother liked the idea of them and thought it was something an ambassador's daughter should own. I have the entire collection. They're on a shelf in my childhood room, never took them out of the box."

"What does the reference to these particular dolls say about the UNSUB?"

"True America is large doll franchise, but the Classic Collection is special. They're only released for a three month time period every twenty years and they cost over a hundred dollars each. These are meant to be collector items; I never even took mine out of the box. Few people own the entire collection or even half of it because it cost so much to get them all in one go. The last time they were on shelves was about sixteen years ago. But the dresses for girls are sold all the time and are a lot cheaper. It would be a lot easier to track the UNSUB if he used the actual dolls and not just the dresses. The only plus is that the dresses are sold exclusively at the True America stores."

"Still worth looking into. Garcia, if you could look into the purchase of these dresses from the stores."

"I can do that, what I cannot do is guarantee you a short list in a short amount of time."

"That search can take the back burner to other things we might need you to find."

"I am poised and ready to see to all your needs."

"The fact that he dresses them like the dolls says something. As well as the amount of care he gave to each girl. They'd all been bathed, even though there was no sign of sexual assault. They'd had manicure and pedicures. Their hair and makeup was done. There's not a bruise on them. Even the cause of death shows care- overdosing them with sleeping pills. He didn't want them to suffer. Their death was as easy as falling asleep. If they were actual dolls, they would have been cherished."

"This says all the victims were found by their mothers," Rossi said suddenly, changing the subject.

"Yeah," JJ said. "The victims' mothers received a phone call from an unknown number telling them to come 'pick up their daughter.' The local agents already attempted to track the call. It came from different disposable phones. Also, for the first twenty-four hours they were missing, the victims weren't actually being looked for. Their mothers received voice-mails from them saying they were staying at a friend's house."

"Did Karina Knowles receive a voice-mail?"

"Yes, but that's how we know she's been kidnapped. The phone calls weren't scripted. The victims were allowed to say whatever they wanted as long as they said they were going to a friend's and that they were safe and that they were convincing about it. This worked in our favor, because Chalandra Knowles and her mother had a secret code of sorts. Garcia..."

"Alright, our brilliant ladies had a fairly simple code. Karina Knowles says her daughter only ever spoke 'proper'. Never used slang or words like _ain't_ or _gonna_. It became their little secret that whenever Chalandra spoke with anything less than perfect grammar, she actually meant the opposite of whatever she was saying. It was a game to them. It also pertained to her name. Apparently Chalandra only ever referred to herself as Cha-Cha, so whenever she used her full name, it meant seriousness. This also was the same with calling her mother 'mama' versus 'mum' and 'bye' versus 'see you later'. When Karina got this voice-mail she knew something was up. Here we go," Garcia pressed a button on her computer and the missing girl's voice filled the air.

"_Hey, mama, this is Chalandra. I'm callin' to let ya know I'm finna head over to Jayla's house. I'm gonna stay the night there, so don't choo worry. I'mma be fine. Bye."_

"From what Karina Knowles says, this message is to be interpreted as 'Hi, listen carefully, this is serious business. I'm calling to tell you I'm not going to Jayla's house. I won't be staying the night there, so please worry. I'm not going to be fine. We won't ever see each other again."

"That's pretty clever."

"And it worked in our favor. Karina Knowles reported her daughter missing less than an hour after the abduction, unlike with the first two victims where the UNSUB had a twenty-four hour head start before anyone even knew something was up."

"How does he choose these girls and get close to them?"

"They were all in the same school district," Garcia's voice came from the laptop situated on the table in front of the team. "Different schools, but same district. It's the only connection I've found so far, but I'm going to keep looking."

"Could the UNSUB work for the school district?"

"Garcia..."

"Run background checks on everyone employed by the school district, I know. Way ahead of you. Though, until you can give me something to narrow the list down to, this might be a while."

"Right now, I think it would be safe to exclude teachers or miscellaneous staff who only work at one school. If our UNSUB met them though the school, it's safe to assume that he visits all the schools, probably on a regular basis."

"Also, he would have been employed there for at least two and a half years."

"That's narrowed the search significantly, but this is still going to take a while."

"You can do it, Baby Girl, I have faith in you."

"You better have faith, chocolate thunder, because I truly intend to work some miracles over here. Hit you back when I got something. Ciao." She disconnected.

"It seems unlikely that the parents always found the body instead of a random park-goer, despite them receiving a phone call. The bodies were on display. Someone else had to see them."

"There's no reports of witnesses from the dump-sites. No one saw anything before the mother arrived."

"That doesn't make any sense. How could a body be placed in a public place with no witness from the public?"

"Maybe the park was closed. Most parks have curfews usually between ten pm and six am."

"The victims were found at noon. No way could they have been there for six hours without being discovered sooner."

"Noon is lunchtime. The park was probably empty. Plus it was on a Monday in both cases. Children would have been in school. Most adults would have been at work."

"I've never known a park to be completely empty in the middle of the day. Someone had to have been there. There had to have seen something."

"I just don't think he could have dumped a body in the middle of the day without being seen by anyone."

"It is an extremely public place. The local officers asked around and no one came forward saying they saw anything."

"They wouldn't if they, themselves, had something to hide."

"But why choose a park in the first place? What is he trying to do? To say?"

"Playgrounds are symbols of childhood's innocence and freedom. He's trying to taint that."

"An attempt to destroy other's childhoods and innocence like his own was destroyed."

At the moment, the pilot announced that the plane would be landing soon and all discussion was halted at papers were gathered and returned to folded and seat belts were put on.

…

There was a crowd of reporters outside the Knowles' family home when the team arrived. JJ immediately split from the group to go handle them while everyone else pressed through the crowd and into the house. Karina Knowles was sitting on her living room couch, clutched in the arms of someone who must have been a close friend. They both had tear tracks streaking their faces. There was a number of police officers milling about the room. Hotch went to speak with the detective incharge , while Prentiss approached the two women on the couch.

Spencer, Morgan, and Rossi all began walking around the house looking for things that would stand out. They still didn't know how the UNSUB had gotten into the house or coerced the girl into making the phone call. Morgan and Rossi looked around the front of the house, while Spencer headed down the hall towards the back. He passed a couple of closed doors as he went down the hall, and paused to look inside each of the rooms.

The third door he opened lead to Chalandra's bedroom. It was a typical little girl's room, painted in pastel purple and covered in frills and lace. There was a little girl sitting on her bed. She looked up when she heard the door opened and stared at Spencer.

"Hi," Spencer said, regulating his tone to as soft a soothing as he could make it like he'd seen JJ do with upset children. "You must be Jayla?" He took a guess, as that was the only other name they had for a little girl attached to this particular case.

The girl rubbed at her eyes, trying to rid herself of the tears pooling there. She nodded in answer to his question. "Who are you?" She asked.

"My name is Spencer. Doctor Spencer Reid. I work with the FBI."

"FBI? You don't look that old. You look like a student-teacher."

Spencer forced a small laugh at that. He'd once told Hotch that he looked like a student-teacher without a gun on his waist, but according to this girl he still looked like a student-teacher regardless of whether he had a gun or not.

"I'm sorry," Jayla said quickly. "That was rude."

"It's fine," Spencer said. "That is one of the kindest things people have called me."

"People call you names?"

"All the time. One person called me a pipe cleaner with glasses, but there're other names I've been called. I tend to be the youngest person in any given group so that gets attention drawn to me."

"Then why don't you just hang out with people your age?"

"Well, I'm smarter than most people my age. Which leads to even crueler names being thrown my way."

"I'm sorry. Cha-Cha and I get called names too, sometimes."

"Really? What kind of names?"

"Well, Cha-Cha gets called a Bougie Bitch. Don't tell my mom I said that," she added quickly. "I'm not supposed to cuss...curse," she corrected herself. "People say Cha-Cha is trying to act white because she don't speak in Ebonics."

"Ebonics? That's a big word."

"It means Black English," Jayla said. "It comes from the words ebony and phonics. It's the politically correct way of saying a person talks in slang. Cha-Cha taught me the word. She wants to be a writer, so she's always learning new words. Sometimes she throws around big words, not even knowing whether or not she using it right, just because she know no one else in the class will even know what it means."

"She sounds like a very smart girl."

"She is. She's the smartest girl in class. Everyone says I'm her little tag-along and no one likes me."

"Well, obviously they were wrong because Chalandra likes you. You're her best friend." Spencer said. He knew very well how cruel children could be and how much weight classmate's words can have on self-esteem and self-image. "And I think you seem like a really nice girl. I like you plenty."

Jayla smiled. "Thanks. I like you, too. Do you have a best friend?" She seemed to relax a bit and shifted into a more comfortable position on the bed.

Spencer smiled back. "Yes, his name his Derek. He's actually another FBI agent that works on the same team as me. He's somewhere in this house right now."

"I bet he likes you, too."

"I'm sure he does." Spencer caught sight of something on the bed that he hadn't noticed before because it had been shielded by Jayla's body. "Jayla, is that doll yours or Chalandra's?" He asked, pointing to a doll lying on the bed almost behind the little girl. The doll had dark skin and brown eyes. It's hair was thick and curly and wrapped in a scarf. It wore a miniature version of a stereotypical African dress. It looked well cared for, but not new.

Jayla frowned as she quickly picked up the doll and hugged it to her chest, suddenly tensing up again. "It's mine," she said. "My dad bought it for me." The last words came out in a defensive rush as if she was daring Spencer not to believe her.

"I don't think you're telling the truth," Spencer told her softly, trying to avoid sounding accusing. He took a slow step into the room and sat down on the bed next to her. He looked into the little girl's eyes and continued speaking in a soft tone. "Jayla, I really want to find the man who took Chalandra, but in order to do that I need to know everything. Please don't lie to me. Where did you get the doll?"

Tears pooled in Jayla's eyes and she hugged the doll tighter to her. "It was a gift from Cha-Cha" she admitted. "It was the last thing she ever gave me. She made me promise not to tell anyone where I got it."

"When did she give it to you?" Spencer asked. "Was it for your birthday?"

Jayla began playing with a lock of the doll's hair. "No," she said softly. "It was today, before she disappeared. She showed up at my house after school and gave it to me. I pinky-swore that I wouldn't tell anyone she came over or that she gave me the doll. I swore I wouldn't tell. I've never broken a promise to her."

"I bet she'd be really proud of you for keeping your promise despite the circumstances, but sometimes a promise needs to be broken. Chalandra wouldn't be upset with you for breaking it, because you did it to protect her. Isn't protecting her and bringing her home safe more important than keeping her secret?"

Jayla nodded slowly. "I guess. If it'll help bring her home."

"Good. Did she say anything else to you? Like where she was going?"

"She said she was going away for a while and that I was the best friend she ever had and that she loved me. Then she made me promise not to tell anyone that she was leaving. I asked her if I could go with her, but she said that she was going on a special adventure that only she could go on. When her mom called looking for her, I wanted so badly to tell her that I'd seen Cha-Cha, but I had promised. I couldn't break my promise or I would be a bad friend."

"That was a very loyal thing for you to do, Jayla. You're a good friend."

"I feel like a horrible one!" Jayla yelled. "I saw her today and I told nobody. My mom and her mom asked and I lied. Now they're both upset over her being gone, and I still couldn't bring myself to say anything because I'm scared I'll get trouble for lying."

"Jayla, you're a wonderful friend, because you didn't break her trust. I think she'd be happy you kept her secret this long, but she'll be even happier that you finally told someone."

"I just want to help her. I feel so selfish. I'm trying to keep myself out of trouble while my best friend is missing."

"It's not too late to help Chalandra. Telling me the truth was already a big help, but there's something else you can do as well."

"What? How can I help her?"

"Your doll. I think it might be very important. If you let me borrow it for a little while, I promise I'll bring it back to you."

"If she can help you find Cha-Cha, you can take her." She handed over the doll and Spencer took it carefully, as if it was the most precious thing in the world, because to Jayla it was.

"Thank you, Jayla, I'll make sure you get her back." He stood up from the bed and stepped towards the door, before pausing and turning back to look at the girl on the bed. "I wish I had a friend as loyal and good as you," he told her. "Not everyone can be trusted to keep a secret."

Jayla gave a small, watery smile.


	7. A Doll's House

**UchiSays: **Short chapter, my apologies. Also my apologies for the delay. Also, a great chunk of this chapter was not written by me, but by my beta **SmcdsShipper19** (on ffnet) **Miss_Pleezah** (on AO3). So, extra special kudos to her because really, if she hadn't taken over you all would have been waiting even longer for an update. I swear, this Doll Case is like my kryptonite, it seemed like such a good idea when I came up with it, but putting it into the works just completely took away my will to write. I am so glad to see it done. I'm going to try to pick up the pace of the story (not chapter updates, because I can make no promises on that subject) so that there's more plot less case work (even though I still have some awesome cases planned for this). One more thing, this isn't terribly important now, but it's going so show up later and I don't want to catch anyone off guard with it because I totally mentioned it in chapter one, but there is a Hotch/Reid warning on this story. Please keep that in mind, I don't want anyone freaking out and/or flaming because "omg, I thought this was a MoReid story, where the hell did this Hotch/Reid come from you never said anything about this I hate you, go die." Because, if that happens, I'm just going to laugh. Alright, enough small talk, on with the show...**  
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* * *

**Chapter Seven: A Doll's House**

"This is a True America Doll," Prentiss confirmed when Spencer brought the doll and Jayla to the front room where the team was gathered.

"Jayla, why didn't you tell me you saw Cha-Cha? I asked you and you lied to me!"

"I'm sorry," the girl cried, clutching Spencer's arm and half hiding behind him. "I promised her I wouldn't say anything, and then I thought it was too late because I'd already lied and I didn't want to get in trouble."

"Jayla, this is too important to lie about. What if whoever has Cha-Cha hurt her and we couldn't find her because you weren't telling us the truth?"

"I'm sorry," Jayla said again.

"It's alright," Spencer whispered to the girl clinging to him. "You told us now, that's what's important."

"There's a registry for True America Doll owners," Prentiss said suddenly, trying to pull the attention away from the upset girl. "I'd forgot all about that. Each doll comes with a unique serial number and there was a mail-in registry that was kind of an insurance policy. If your dolls were lost or stolen, your proof of ownership was that registry and they'd let you replace the dolls during a sale gap for a fee."

"Is the serial number on the dolls somewhere?"

"It's supposed to be printed on the doll's lower back, but I can't say for certain because I never opened mine. It's also written on a card attached to the box because they're not meant to be opened. They're collector items." She turned the doll over in her hands and began removing its dress to look for the number. "Found it."

"Assuming giving the dolls to the girl's best friend is something done each time, what does that tell us?"

"These dolls aren't cheap. If he owns the entire collection, I'd say we're looking with upper middle class background at the least. This doll isn't new. It's very well cared for, but it's obviously had a previous owner, most likely more than one. And it wasn't just put on a shelf to be looked at. It's been played with. It's even been restored more than once."

"How much does restoration cost?"

"Since they weren't meant to be played with the first place, it costs a small fortune to get them repaired. It's actually cheaper to just buy them new. Except, they're extremely hard to find during the sale-gap. A simple touch up on the paint can cost fifty dollars. Clothes repair or replacement start at two hundred."

"Definitely upper class background then."

"But what does the use of the dolls say about the UNSUB?"

"Probably had an unhappy childhood, or a very happy childhood but an unhappy adult life and this is an attempt to regain that childhood happiness."

"I think it was probably an unhappy childhood. The victims were all latchkey kids. The UNSUB probably was as well. Maybe a hardworking mother never home and either no father or a detached one always too busy with something else to be there for his children. Either way, there's some heavy resentment."

"But if the resentment is towards the parents, why target children? Wouldn't it make more sense to target hardworking mothers that never have time for their children?"

"Maybe, unless the purpose is to save the children while punishing the parents at the same time."

"You're saying this man took my baby to punish me for working too much?" Karina Knowles asked.

"That's not what we're saying at all. This is in no way your fault. The UNSUB is delusional. This isn't about you or your daughter. This is about him trying to get back at his own mother for a perceived wrong."

Morgan's phone rang at the moment. "Baby girl," he answered, stepping away from the team for a semblance of privacy. "We were just about to call you." Garcia said something. "Well, we have something to help you narrow down that list. We have a serial number for a True America doll. We need you to access their registry and see if the last owner has any connections to anyone on that list. And you can narrow that further by seeing if anyone of them come from an upper class background and or purchased those dresses."

Prentiss read out the number to Morgan and he repeated to Garcia. He put the phone on speaker while Garcia worked her magic. "I got something," the techie said about a minute later. "The doll was last owned by a Gretchen Miller. It belonged to four of her cousins before that. She's the daughter of an old money family."

"Does she have a brother?"

"Gretchen does have a brother. A younger one named Riley. Riley is on my list of school district employees. He's actually the district social worker. He's also on our list of dress purchasers. I'm like ninety-nine point nine percent certain this is our guy despite the lack of any police record besides a parking ticket two years ago. Ah, and here's our stressor. Not the parking ticket, mind you. I just found death certificates for Gretchen Miller and her ten year old daughter from two and a half years ago. Less than a month before our first murder."

"Tell me you have an address, baby girl."

"Sending it to your phones now."

"Thanks baby girl, you're the best."

"Anything for my heroes. Go save the day and bring this little girl home. Garcia gone."

The call ended and the team immediately hopped into action.

…

Riley Miller's house was in a suburb on the other side of town. Spencer rode in one of the suburbans with Morgan and Rossi. He adjusted the straps on his Kevlar vest as the truck sped through town, lights flashing and siren blaring. When they got closer to Miller's house and no longer needed them to clear the way on main streets, Spencer shut the sirens off. They didn't want to alert Miller of their coming for fear of spooking him into killing Chalandra.

They were the first ones to arrive and Morgan parked the car at an angle in front of the house while all the other cops pulled up. They all silently got out of the car while the chief walked up to Hotch. "How're we gonna play this?" Everyone was silently checking their guns and vests whilst Hotch was contemplating what to do. Morgan walked up to them, just finished with his checking and double checking.

"A group of us could go round the back and see if we could gain a point of entry and get to Chalandra from there. We could use a distraction from the front to keep him occupied and maybe stray him away from her."

"Good idea Morgan. You, JJ, Prentiss, the chief, myself and a few agents will split up and go around the back; Reid and Rossi, see if you can distract Riley long enough for us to get in and grab her and get her out..."

….

Meanwhile inside the Miller house, Riley was in the kitchen making a cup of hot cocoa for Chalandra, or Cha-Cha. He chuckled to himself remembering when she told him in one if their meetings the name she preferred to be called. While he was waiting for the milk to heat up, he was crushing a few Donormyl pills into fine powder to add to the cup. He was so pleased with himself that he'd be able to save another child from the misery of a lonely childhood. Of those years where parents just simply didn't give a crap about their kids. That kind of thing just angered him. Why would you do that to your children? They deserve so much better! They deserved to be loved and cherished and given attention.

Well, now he had the chance to help these kids and show these parents up at the same time. These parents deserved to have their kids taken away from them for good! These children didn't need them!

He looked over to the stove and saw the milk was ready and he added the powdered sleeping pills to the cup with the cocoa and switched the stove off. As he was about to pick up the pot with hot milk there was a knock on the front door. He looked up quickly and spun around. Who the hell?

"Mister Miller? My name is Spencer, I'm from the Behavior Analysis Unit in the FBI. I just wanted to have a word with you? May I come inside?"

FBI? Crap! Riley looked out his kitchen window cautiously and saw all the cruisers and suburbans lined up in front of his house. No no no NO! This wasn't supposed to happen! This was never meant to happen. He spun around looking for anything to help him. He glimpsed the knife on the counter he used to crush the pills with and picked it up, slipping it behind him in between the band of his underwear and suit pants and covered the handle with his shirt. He poured the milk into the cup and stirred whilst simultaneously opened the cupboard door above him as he had done many times to grab the bag of marshmallows stored there. The FBI guy was still talking but he paid no mind to whatever he was saying. As he added three marshmallows to the cup, a small smile spread across his face. Cha-Cha was going to get her hot cocoa no matter what before he answered the door.

….

Morgan, JJ, Prentiss, Hotch and a few other officers had split up, weapons drawn and slipped round the house to the back and met up again at the back door giving the all clear signal. An officer came up and began to pick the lock while Hotch quietly gave the signal to Reid and Rossi to knock on the front door through his mouth piece. As Reid knocked and called out to Riley, the officer opened the door and held it while Morgan slipped in first, followed by Prentiss, JJ and Hotch. They each split up, guns already drawn, cautiously looking for either Riley or Chalandra. Morgan made it to the front and quickly but silently went up the stairs to the next level. He turned left toward the only room with a door open and quietly walked through. As he walked further in he heard a quiet gasp and spun to his right quickly, seeing Chalandra sitting at a small table, tears tracks on her cheeks looking like she was pretty much made to sit there and have a tea party. He quickly put his finger to his lips while he tucked his gun away and cautiously walked up to the little girl.

"Hello, what's your name?"

"Cha-Cha."

"Hello Cha-Cha, I'm Derek. I'm going to help you get out of here and back to your mummy okay?" The little girl nodded and quickly got up from her seat. He spoke into his mouth piece, "Guys I've found her." Just as he spoke he heard a crash downstairs and a scream.

….

Riley was putting the finishing touches to his cup of cocoa when he heard something like footsteps. He came out of the kitchen with the cup smiling to himself and froze. There, in front of him was a group of officers with guns, and they were all pointed at him. Cha-Cha! What if someone already got to her?! No no no! They were messing it all up! It wasn't meant to be like this.

"Mister Miller? My name is Aaron Hotchner…" Riley dropped the cup and screamed "NOOO!" He began to shake "NO! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! GET OUT!"

His front door burst open and a few more officers came through. He guessed it was the real skinny one that was having the conversation with the door just a minute ago. Everyone had their gun pointing toward him.

"We will.. As soon as we have Chalandra with us. Though you'll have to come with us too. You've got a lot to answer for Riley."

He tried to block out the woman's soft voice and shook his head. He looked up to see a tall, black man with his Cha-Cha. She was gripping on to his arm as he was slowly making his way down the stairs. All he felt was a hot, blinding rage. Cha-Cha needed to be set free. These people would never understand that. They had no idea how it feels to be lonely, no one having anytime for you. Everyone just too busy to play with little Riley. His big sister just thrusting the dolls in his arms saying she was 'way too old for these, why don't you just take them Riley and leave me alone'. Having only those dolls as his friends. Being in such a lonely, dark place, like a flower growing in a basement—crooked and yellowed. No one deserved that. Not him. Not those poor girls whose mothers never weren't even there to see them home from school. It was unfair to the children. They deserved better. Cha-Cha deserved better.

That was when he decided, he absolutely had to do this, he had to save her from the hurt, the loneliness. He was going to get her away from these people and save her. He reached behind him and pulled out his knife. There was a loud shot, a scream and then silence. For a little moment nothing happened, everything just stopped and Riley wanted to know why. He looked up to see every person in his house looking at him. That's when he felt it, he put his hand on his shoulder where he'd just started to feel the blinding pain. That officer shot him! He got shot! He looked down to see the knife on the floor and he wobbled and he sank to the floor on his knees.

….

The plane ride back to Quantico was its usual quiet journey. When they got back to the office, Hotch dismissed them for the day, saying that paperwork could wait for morning. "You did good work today," the team leader stated, "go home and get some rest."

Spencer pooled the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder and headed for the elevators. Derek strolled up to him and threw his arm around Spencer's shoulders. Spencer only tensed for a little bit, he was still a little reserved about people touching him but at least it wasn't as bad as before. People don't seem to catch it now so he guessed it was a vast improvement.

"Hey Pretty Boy, how about you and I grab a bite to eat?"

"Um," Spencer started to say, he realized that he hadn't really spent much time with any of his co-workers this week but he just felt that sometimes he needed time to himself. He'd already made a mental plan of how he was going to spend his evening. He could practically taste the glass of wine he planned on having whilst reading the brand new book he'd just bought on hypnotism after seeing that movie Trance with Prentiss the week prior. He was just about to open his mouth to decline when Derek just continued speaking.

"Yeah I'm thinking Chinese. Or maybe Indian, I know this great place. Okay Pretty Boy Indian it is, lets go."

Spencer just looked at him wide eyed whilst he was being practically manhandled into the elevator. "But," Spencer started to say again, but Derek cut him off.

"None of that, Pretty Boy. I'm sure you were planning a romantic evening at home with your favorite paramours Ink and Page, but I want some time with you. So we're going to go to dinner and we're going to talk about tv shows and books and music, but nothing to do with work or personal life. And afterward, we'll have a couple of drinks and jokingly profile the other patrons of the bar. Then I'll drive you home and tomorrow I'll meet you at Roasted and give you a ride to work, during which time we can talk business. Sound like a plan?"

Derek wasn't actually giving him much of a choice, but Spencer couldn't find any complaints. "Alright," he said.

"Good, because I want some Tandoori chicken and I'm curious to see what weird Indian dish is going to catch your interests. Let's have some fun tonight."

"Alright," Spencer said again, a smile curling at his lips.


	8. Plans

**UchiSays: **So, here's chapter eight. Sorry for the delay. Also, my dating history is nonexistent so I really don't know how to write "date" scenes and I really didn't want to write this date scene, so I kinda tried to get it done as quickly as possible. To make it up to you, enjoy the second half of the chapter that involves Spencer and Derek playing with a baby. Because, isn't that just cute?

Also, I do intend to introduce a new case next chapter. I know some of you has mentioned a desire to see less casework and more relationship building and I'm going to keep that in mind, but for my own sanity, I've structured the story in my mind and installed linchpins to help me along the way. The cases are my linchpins so if I try to involve less of them, I can just see everything falling down around me and this story quickly going to tatters. But, heres something to look forward to, the first chapter after this case resolves should involve some sexy times. So, there you go...

As always, thanks goes to **Lessie** for being an awesome beta. And special love to **musicsdolphin**, because you know why.

Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Plans**

Spencer enjoyed going out with Derek. The ride to the restaurant was a bit awkward at first, with Spencer stewing in silence about Derek suddenly making demands on his time. But, once they arrived at the restaurant, the awkwardness was gone and Spencer began enjoying himself. It was no secret that Spencer loved Indian food, he frequently asked the team to accompany to the different Indian restaurants that he'd found and enjoyed. The restaurant Derek drove them to was one Spencer had never visited before, it had only recently opened and wasn't near anything Spencer frequented.

The restaurant was small and dimly lit. It had a very intimate feel to it, which caused Spencer internally freak out. Was this a date? Derek had said they were going out, but he didn't say it was a date. Spencer had not agreed to a date. He didn't know what type of behavior was expected on dates. Hanging out with friends was easy, but dating was done with the intention to form a deeper, more meaningful relationship than one shared between friends. It required revealing private details about yourself and there were courtesies that Spencer only knew about in theory, and there was...

"Hey, Pretty Boy," Derek said, pulling Spencer away from his thoughts, "Relax, okay. We're here as just two friends hanging out. Nothing more than that. Don't get yourself so worked up." Derek's smiled eased his mind a bit and Spencer found himself relaxing a bit.

"I wasn't freaking out," He stated with joking defiance.

"Please, you had 'freak out' written all over your face. You need to power down that super computer you call a brain and stop over analyzing things. And, trust me, if I was taking you on a date, I would have asked instead of demanding you come with me, and I would have given you enough time in advance so that you could call JJ, Emily, and Aimee and freak out about it with them." His tone was light and teasing and the only retaliation Spencer could come up with was to stick out his tongue.

Things went well after that. They passed the time talking about sports (Derek was a hockey fan but didn't really care much for baseball and Spencer wowed him with his ability to recant facts and stats about his favorite teams), music (Derek managed to wrench a promise out of Spencer to broaden his musical variety and listen to some hip hop), books (Spencer surprised Derek with the fact that he had read all seven Harry Potter books and a couple of Kurt Vonnegut books), and movies (Spencer convinced Derek that it was only fair if he had to watch a foreign film with him if Spencer was going to listen to his music).

The food was great. Derek ordered chicken tandoori that was absolutely delicious if the little piece Spencer had tasted was anything to go by. Spencer ordered some Chingudi Jhola that was spiced to perfection, but Derek thought it was both too spicy and needed hot sauce.

"I'm black," he joked, "we put hot sauce on everything."

They talked and laughed through their meal, before arguing over who was going to pay the bill. Derek said since he'd dragged Spencer out against his will, it was only fair that he paid the check, but Spencer was more than willing to pay for his own food. They went back in forward for a few minutes, before deciding to split it down the middle.

After dinner, Derek drove them to a bar where the both the security guard at the door and the bartender greeted him by name.

"I've been to your favorite watering hole, Pretty Boy," Derek said, leading Spencer through the crowd, "now you get to see mine."

Spencer felt very much out of his element here. This wasn't his first time at a bar, but usually the entire team was there and Spencer always had someone familiar near him. Now, with it just being him and Derek, Spencer stood awkwardly by the bar sipping on the drink Derek had ordered for him and wondering what he was doing here.

They'd been there for about ten minutes, when Derek downed the rest of his drink and grabbed Spencer's hand. "Come on hot stuff, let's dance."

"What?" Spencer asked, resisting the force of Derek tugging him toward the dance floor. "I don't dance. I can't."

"Anyone can dance, Spencer," Derek said with a smile.

"I don't want to dance," Spencer retorted.

"Well, I'm not going to force you. You can stay here while I go dance."

"Fine."

Derek smiled and winked at Spencer, before heading to the dance floor just a few feet away and starting to dance.

Spencer sat awkwardly on his bar-stool sipping the drink Derek had ordered from him and watched the older male. Derek hadn't even been on the floor for a minute before two girls sidled up to him and started doing what Spencer guessed was meant to be dancing, though it looked more like a mix of vertical sex and epileptic spazzing. Derek looked unfazed by his sudden acquisition of dance partners, in fact he seemed to be enjoying the attention. He was probably used to it. Derek Morgan was a very attractive man. Spencer doubt there had ever been a shortage of women throwing themselves at his feet.

One of the girls—brunette, big boobs, with an unfortunate stain on the back of her dress that her friend really should have told her about by now—plastered herself against Derek's front and did some type of whole body jig that made Spencer wonder if she'd just gotten a sudden chill. She popped her perfect lips, before leaning forward and whispering something in Derek's ear. Derek laughed, then whispered something back to her before pointing towards Spencer. The girl shot Spencer a look that could curdle milk, before whispering to Derek again. Derek shook his head no, but continued to smile at her. The girl didn't seem to appreciate that answer, she grabbed her friend's hand and turned to walk away. Derek grabbed her arm to stop her retreat, and for a moment a very smug look pasted on the girl's face. The look was quickly replaced by embarrassment when Derek spoke softly into her ear. She changed directions and headed quickly towards the lady's room, most likely to do something about that stain.

Derek didn't even watch them go, he just resumed dancing. Over the next ten minutes, Derek danced with a total of seven women and two men, before finally leaving the dance floor and returning to Spencer's side. "Still don't want to dance, Pretty Boy?" He asked while sipping the drink the bartender set in front of him the moment he reached the bar.

"You're doing enough for both of us," Spencer replied.

"You're going to dance with me one day, just so you know."

"We'll see about that."

Derek just gave the face splitting smile he'd been aiming at Spencer all night. That smile was a weapon. Spencer had to turn away to keep from getting flustered by it.

Derek finished off his drink and dug a few bills out of his wallet. "It's getting late. We better get out of here, work in the morning and all." He threw the money down on the counter with a nod to the bartender. Spencer got to his feet and let Derek wrap an arm around his waist and steer him through the crowd.

The trip to Spencer's house was silent save for the music coming through the radio that Derek occasionally sang along to. They pulled up outside Spencer's apartment complex and Derek hit him with that disarming smile again, a glint of mischief twinkling in his eye. "Want me to walk you to your door?"

Spencer felt the overwhelming urge to roll his eyes, but managed to control himself. "I think I'll be fine."

"Alright. See ya tomorrow, Pretty Boy."

"Goodnight, Derek."

"You too. Take care, Spencer."

Spencer entered him apartment complex, headed up the stairs, unlocked his door, turn on the light, then went over to the window. He pulled back the curtain and looked outside. Derek tapped his horn once, a chirpy 'bye', before finally pulling off. Spencer watched until his taillights were out of sight.

…

"Oh thank god," Aimee said the moment Spencer walked into Roasted the next morning. There was a line of people all the way to the door. Aimee seemed to be running herself ragged, taking orders, making drinks, and running the register. She had a smile on her face, but it was obvious she was running on caffeine and adrenaline. Little Jillian was in a baby swing in the corner of the room, crying loudly. "Spencer, if you could grab Jilly and make her a bottle your coffee will be free."

Aimee was mixing up a mocha frappé as she asked him, and despite his desire to protest, Spencer knew Aimee wouldn't have time to tend to her daughter with so many customers present. He slowly got out of line and made his way over to the crying child.

"Hello, Jillian," he said softly, looking at the straps keeping her in the baby swing and wondering if there was a special way he was supposed to undo them. He only hesitated for a second, before undoing the fasteners and lifting the small child. Jillian cried louder as Spencer adjusted his grip on her until she was held carefully in the crook of his arm with her cheek resting on his chest. He jostled her softly and spoke to her in hush tones as he looked around the coffee shop. He spotted her diaper bag behind the counter with Aimee, there was three bottles in it with lips snapped over the nipple.

Jillian's crying was starting to quiet down a bit as Spencer used his foot to hook around the strap of the diaper bag and pull it towards him without getting in Aimee's way. He lifted the bag and sat in on a table, picking up a bottle and finding that it already had the right amount of water measured into it. Unzipping the bag, he found a bannister of powdered formula. He continued talking to Jillian as he read the instructions. Mixing the bottle with only one available hand was a bit difficult, but he managed. By this point, Jillian had stopped crying and was staring at Spencer while smacking her lips.

Spencer smiled down at her. "Do you want you bottle warm?" He asked her softly. "My godson, Henry, refused to drink cold bottles, but Jack hated them warm. I bet you like yours warm just to make your Uncle Spencer have to do more work."

Spencer carefully maneuvered behind the counter, trying to stay out of Aimee's way as he turned on the hat water tap. "It's a good thing I read the instructions," he said to Jillian, "I would have put the bottle in the microwave. But they say never microwave formula because it can cause hot spots. We don't want hot spots, do we? No we don't. They can burn your mouth. That's not good at all." He held the bottle under the water long enough to warm in a little. "There we go. All ready for you." He said, shutting off the water and shaking the bottle. "Now, are you going to be a good girl and drink the bottle Uncle Spencer worked so hard to make? It looks so tasty."

Jillian giggled and gave him an open mouth smiled that showed the beginning of one tooth cutting through her gums. She raised her hands and reached for the bottle with a pleased sounding gurgle. Spencer sat down at the table where he'd left the diaper bag and sat Jillian in his lap. "Look at you, big girl, sitting up and holding your own bottle. I remember when you could barely hold your head up on your own." Jillian contently leaned against Spencer as she suckled her bottle, taking breaks from drinking to babble at him for a few seconds, before happily returning to her meal.

Spencer kept a steady dialogue going between him and the infant, not talking about anything in particular, just letting his usual stream of thought spill from his lips and smiling when she responded to his words. Jillian only drank half her bottle before handing back to Spencer and starting up a long monologue of her own. Spencer listened to her babble, responding as if she was speaking clearly on the most interesting topic in the world. He made different faces with each response, comical surprise and awe, amusement, shock, anger, happy, sad, and doubtful. Jillian giggled at each face and continued her babbling. Occasionally, Spencer had to stop her from grabbing at his hair, but that seemed to amuse her too.

"You're one silly girl, Jillian. Silly. Silly. Jilly."

"You're really great with her," a familiar voice said from beside him.

Spencer looked at Derek and blushed. "She's an easy baby," he said. "She's content to have someone talk to her."

"I doubt she'd accept just anyone picking her up and talking to her about Machiavelli and Nietzsche."

"She doesn't actually understand everything I'm saying. She just responds to my tone."

"And your ability to moderate your tone in a way that pleases her isn't anything to scoff at. You're great with her, Spencer." His tone said he wouldn't be shaken on the subject. Thankfully, Aimee chose that moment to come over and throw herself into a seat with a relieved sigh.

"I hate Wednesdays," Aimee stated, leaning back in the chair and running her fingers through her hair. "It's our busiest day of the week for some reason, which is great for business but so aggravating."

"Where's Susan?" Spencer asked.

"My dad got hurt at work, so mom is tending to him. She'll be in soon." Like most Biological Alphas, Aimee's father worked in Law Enforcement.

"Is he alright?"

"As alright as anyone caught on the wrong end of a bullet. It was just a graze though. Some desperate kid, in over his head, who barely knew how to hold a gun properly, let alone aim it. But he'll survive. He always does. You heroes always do."

Aimee had once told Spencer she hated her dad's job. She'd been raised to think of him as a hero and he was her hero. But, she hated the fear that a phone call would come in the middle of the night telling her that her hero had met his Kryptonite. She thought Spencer was a hero, too. Everyone who worked in a field that had them defending and saving people were heroes to her. So many heroes, but even more villains. She'd seen her dad wounded in the job before. Each time, the wound hadn't been too horrible. Each time, he had survived. The hero survived. Just like in the stories. The heroes always win in the end.

"We live in a world of heroes, don't we Jilly-Bean?" Aimee asked, sitting up in her chair and taking her daughter from Spencer. "They might not wear masks or crazy costumes, but they are heroes. Your Uncle Spencer is a hero. Uncle Derek is a hero. And Popsicle is a hero. They're big and strong and protect the world. They're not infallible. Nor invincible. But they're heroes. The Heroes always survive."

Jillian blinked her large hazel eyes and placed a hand on her mother's cheek as if she could remove the sadness hidden deep within Aimee with a single touch. Aimee smiled at her baby and kissed her on her pudgy cheek. "Let's make these heroes they're coffee so they can get back to saving the world." She got to her feet her Jillian situated on her hip. "What will you be having today?"

…

Spencer and Derek had arrived to the cafe early enough that they actually had time to sit down and drink their coffee before leaving. Right after Aimee made they're drinks, another wave of customers had flooded the shop and she quickly handed Jillian off to Derek before turning to get to work.

Spencer and Derek sat in the corner of the shop set up for Jillian to play in, an area distinguished by the large blanket on the floor and the safety-gates caging it in with an array of toys. Jillian immediately crawled over to a stuff bear and started chewing on its ear. Derek picked up another of the stuffed animals and began talking through it to the little girl.

"So, what have you found out about starting a Youth Center?" Derek asked Spencer, before continuing his playing with Jillian.

"There weren't many books on the subject, but the lady at the library helped me look it up online. Surprisingly, it doesn't take much. We need a Board of Directors. Especially since we intend to start them in places we're not in often. The Board can help us in outlining our Mission Statement. After that, we just need to file for Non-Profit status, find facilities to suit our needs, and gather volunteers."

"Garcia and I have been looking into real estate in Chicago and Vegas. I found a suitable building in Vegas, but we're going to construct a place in Chicago. My mom can hold a town meeting to gather volunteers and Directors back home. You know anyone in Vegas who can do the same?"

Jillian got bored with watching Derek and the bunny. She put down her bear and crawled over one of her other toys. It was a busy board with a mirror and a lot of buttons and moving parts on it. She giggled as she looked at her reflection and made a sound that sounded like "baby."

Spencer thought about the people he knew back in his hometown as he watched her. Who did he know would be willing to take charge of this endeavor? He'd never be particularly close to anyone his own age, but there were a few teachers he'd had that were kind and had a vested interest in Alpha-Omega life. "I know of someone," Spencer said. "I haven't spoken to them in a few months, but they're always happy to hear from me. They're a bonded couple with alpha/omega children, so they would understand what we're trying to do."

"Filing for non-profit status should be pretty easy after we get all that figured out. I was thinking we could take some vacation time to visit potential locations for the centers and get talking to the community." Derek said as Jillian started pressing buttons on her toy. It began to play _Ode to Joy_, only to switch to_ Twinkle Twinkle Little Star_ when she pressed another button. "Would it be too much of an abuse of FBI systems to get Garcia to make a list of families with Alpha-Omega members, so we can directly target those most likely to show support?"

"I think the legality of it is more of the question."

"Please," Derek scoffed. "I know for a fact that Penelope runs full background checks on almost everyone we come in contact with on a regular basis. Usually people like the guys Emily dates, but she's looked into Aimee and Susan too. She's not bothered by how legal the act is."

For some reason, Spencer wasn't surprised by this at all. Penelope was always trying to look out for them in the best way she knew how. "We're going to have to do a lot of fund-raising," Spencer said instead of commenting on that. Jillian got distracted from her busy board when Derek accidentally bumped the side of her pin and sent one her balls rolling across blanket. She turned and crawled after it as fast as she could.

"Less than you think. Penelope and I found some politicians and celebrities who might be willing to invest. Including the lovely Lila Archer who already promised to help with promotion. In return, she asks that you maybe call her more than once every half century."

Spencer blushed. He remembered Lila Archer quite vividly. The actress who's best friend was stalking her. The girl who had stolen Spencer's first kiss after dragging him into a swimming pool. That whole situation had been awkward. Especially Derek's reaction to it. He teased Spencer about it constantly for months. Of course, that had been back before Spencer had been willing to accept Derek's desire to claim him. Spencer and Lila were still in contact and on friendly terms, though he hadn't talked to her as much in the last year or so.

"You already contacted her?" Spencer asked. He'd guessed that they would ask Lila for support since she was a big name celebrity that they knew personally (if only through the job), but he'd assumed they would expect Spencer to be the one to call for the favor.

Derek shrugged and smiled down at Jillian who was handing him her ball. He set the ball down and sent it rolling across the blanket again and Jillian eagerly crawled after it. "She was someone we were almost completely sure would help, so we called her."

"Oh."

Jillian caught the ball and brought it back to Derek, but didn't bother it chase after it when he rolled it this time, in favor of reaching for Derek to have him pick her up. The moment she was in his arms, she reached for his nose. Spencer chuckled as Jillian hooked her little fingers into Derek's nostrils and started pulling with all her might.

Derek chuckled too as he grabbed her hand and pulled it away. "No," he chastised lightly. "That's dirty. Now we have to clean your hands, because I know the moment I let it go it's going straight for your mouth." Spencer reached into the diaper bag for some baby wipes and handed one to Derek. Derek cleaned Jillian's hands and the moment he let them go, she turned and reached for Spencer. Apparently her only interest in Derek had been his nose and now that she's been denied that she wanted nothing to do with him.

Spencer chuckled again and took the child. She immediately grabbed her hair and pulled it towards mouth. Spencer clucked his tongue in disapproval and replaced his hair in her hand with a finger. Jillian gripped tight on his finger and gave a large, gummy, smile and started smacking her lips.

"You two need to stop being so cute with my granddaughter and get out of here," Susan said, coming up behind him.

"Hi, Susan," Spencer and Derek said together.

"Hello boys. Good to see you both alive and well. Now, you need to start heading to work before you're late. I can take care of this little terror."

Spencer handed Jillian over and got to his feet. Derek did the same.

A few minutes later, they both had fresh cups of coffee and had said their goodbyes to the three ladies of the shop. They got into Derek's car and headed towards the office.


	9. Outside the Box

**UchiSays: **At this point, I think the long delays are expected of me and apologizing isn't really necessary. Still, I am sorry it took so long. I meant to have it complete ages ago. On the plus side, I managed to wrap up the entire case in a single chapter and, as previously promised, the next chapter will contain some (low level) smut.

As always, lots of love to my dearest Lessie (smcdsShipper19) for her patience and skill.

Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Outside the Box**

They had arrived at William Jewell College in Liberty Missouri shortly after noon. The local law enforcements had set up a command center in one of the multipurpose rooms in the school's student union. They were dealing with a spree killer.

Three students had died in the last five days, all of gunshot wounds to the head. The first two victims were both sorority girls that shared no physical traits. The third victim was male and not a member of any Greek association.

"Della Ochoa was a third year Communications Major," said Mary Jacobson, she was an employee of the college but Spencer had missed her job title due to being distracted at the time of introduction. "She was a sweet girl. She visited Student Affairs all the time. She liked to hang out in Quentin's office after her classes."

Della Ochoa was the first victim. She'd been found in the student parking lot during the early hours of Monday morning. She'd been dead for only about three hours at the time. Spencer listened with only half his attention while Mary continued listing all of Mary's positive traits and talking about how close knit everyone on campus was how she just couldn't imagine one of the students doing anything like this. The other half of Spencer's attention was on the bottle of water he held clenched between his hands. The moment their plane had landed, Spencer had been hit with such a strong thirst it left him wheeling for a few seconds. He'd already finished off three bottles of water since their arrival in Liberty and he was very close to finishing a fourth but he was trying to convince himself to moderate the remaining water in the bottle so as not to disrupt the discussion to get another one.

He took a small sip of water from his bottle and turned his attention back to what was being discussed. They were talking about the second victim now. Deanna Horn was a first year student majoring in elementary education. She'd died at around four in the morning on Wednesday. She'd also been killed in the student parking lot, a place referred to as The Sahara because of it's distance away from campus. The Sahara was tucked behind the dormitories at the bottom of a staircase containing eighty-one steps. Deanna had just returned to the school and had called Campus Safety to drive her up to her dorm. This wasn't an unusual thing at all. Somewhere between the time she hung up her phone and Campus Safety had arrived to her, she'd been shot. She was dead less than five minutes when Campus Safety found her sitting in her car with the lights on.

"Deanna was very involved in campus life," Mary Jacobson said. "She was on the track team. She was a member of various campus organizations. She joined her sorority before recruitment due to Continuous Open Bidding. She was a really really sweet girl."

Spencer gave up his internal fight and downed the rest of the water in his bottle, the cool liquid easing the unbearable thirst within him and clearing his head a few minutes.

The conversation had turned to the third victim, Henry Kelley. Henry was a senior nursing major. He was the only one not killed in the student parking lot. His murder had taken place almost half way across campus on a path next to the house where the school's president lived. The path was a direct route from the back of the student union to the area where the upper year dorms were located. According to his roommate, Henry had stayed late at the Union to work on a paper. The Union was open twenty-four hours, but the doors locked at midnight. The doors could only open from the inside and there was a campus safety officer inside with any students that might be there. They were told he was seen heading downstairs in the Union to check his mailbox and then had left through the door near that area. His body wasn't found until the next morning by students on their way to breakfast.

"Henry was a very quiet boy," Mary said. "He had a small group of friends and stuck close to him. But he was really sweet and wouldn't hurt fly."

The annoyance Spencer was beginning to feel every time Mary described the victim as 'really sweet' was very unjustified, but he couldn't push it away. And he was so thirsty!

There was a little more talk about the victims, before the team started giving a basic profile. "Our UNSUB is a type of spree killer. He's most likely a white male, loner, probably bullied, socially inept, easily frustrated, show interests in violent topics, has signs of depression, and little trust in others."

"Spree killers feel like they have nothing left to live for. They think their own lives are over and aim to take as many people with this as they can. They usually select their victims at random, though sometimes they are drawn to certain traits. School shooters often targets students who gave them a hard time, teachers who gave them failing grades, or a group of bullies."

"Spree killers devolve really fast. He's going to start getting sloppy. He feels he has nothing left to live for and in the end he'll prefer death to being captured, usually resulting in suicide by cop."

"There are rare occasions when spree killers do target a certain type of victim. Right now, all we can recommend is that you inform your students to never go anywhere alone. We don't know if he's looking for a specific victim type or if these are just crimes of opportunity, but to be safe minimize his opportunities."

"Should we close the school?" Mary asked. "Maybe send the students home for their own safety?"

"With your policy that all students must live on campus, you're definitely just going to be sending the UNSUB home with them and if he doesn't continue his spree outside of school, where he'll have a larger victim pool to choose from, he will just... ...when... ...reopens... ...continue..."

"Reid?" Morgan's voice was low, but his concern could be heard. The feel of his hand on Spencer's shoulder was enough to pull him back to clarity. "Are you okay?" Morgan asked.

"I...uh..." Spencer stammered, pulling away from that large heavy hand and putting some space between him in Morgan, despite wanting with everything in his being to get closer. He wanted to get as close as possible to the alpha, to be wrapped up in his arms, to touch every single part of him. His heart pounded in his chest and he could see the exact moment Morgan realized what was going on, his nostrils flared and his eyes dilated a bit before he backed up and put more space between them.

"I need a moment," Spencer finally managed to get out, his cheeks burning red. He slid a hand down the side of his messenger bag, searching for the familiar lump of an object he never left home without. "Excuse me," he said to everyone in the room, rushing towards the door.

His brain was cloudy and he felt strange-hot, floaty, blurry around the edges. He recalled seeing a sign for the restroom when they'd first entered the Student Union and he made his way towards it, his hand never leaving the reassuring lump inside his bag. He may have been caught off guard, but he wasn't unprepared. His Heat was starting early, so he just had to postpone it until a more convenient time.

Spencer hurried down the stairs and around the corner. He entered the restroom and made a beeline for the stall furthest from the door. Sliding the latch to the stall closed with one hand, Spencer dug his hand inside his satchel with the other and fished around for his stash of Omegesterin.

Spencer pulled the box and syringe out of his bag and let out an audible sigh of relief. He wouldn't have come on this case if he'd known his Heat was going to start, but it was more than two weeks early so he'd been literally caught off guard. It wasn't uncommon for Heats to be irregular; much like girls with their periods, Heats could changes cycles or be affected by stress or other factors.

He'd been thirteen and just starting CalTech the first time his Heat had came off schedule. He hadn't bothered to buy more suppressant before he'd left Vegas because his Heat hadn't been expected for another two weeks and he'd thought he would have time to pick up some in Pasadena if he ever needed it. His Heat had hit him unexpectedly and Spencer had ignored the symptoms for the first couple of days, because his Heat always came on schedule so there was no way it could be starting yet. He'd slipping into Stage 2 Heat in the middle of class and one of his professors had had to barricade him in his office while he rode out the week. After that, Spencer had made sure to pay attention of the signs of his Heat and to always have Omegesterin with him no matter what.

He quickly unfastened his pants and pulled them just below his hip, before freeing the bottle of suppressant from it's box. It looked just like the little bottles of insulin diabetics used. He took a deep breath to try to clear his mind of the heat-induced haze clouding it. He needed to think clearly for a second, just long enough to measure the suppressant. It was safe to take enough suppressant to postpone a Heat for two weeks, but he didn't need that much. He just needed enough to get him through this case. It was a spree killer. It shouldn't take more than a day or two for that to play out. So three days worth should be enough to get him through. He measured that amount into the syringe and set the bottle down on top of his bag.

Spencer didn't like needles. Ever since his Dilaudid addiction, he hated them. It reminded him too much of how he'd almost ruined his life. He pushed his discomfiture aside and stabbed the needle into his hip, slowly pressing down on the plunger.

Relief wasn't instantaneous, but it was close. It took just over a minute before he started to feel it. The haze on his thoughts began to clear. The flush left his skin. The unbearable thirst became so much more bearable. The fever left his body. He could focus. He could think. It was almost as if the Heat hadn't been there at all. As if the quirk in biology that controlled so much of his life didn't even exist.

Spencer let out a sigh of relief. If he was being honest, Spencer would say he didn't like going into Heat. It made him irrational and illogical. It impeded his judgement and deteriorated this cognitive abilities. It made him unable to remember. It made him hyper aware of his body and made him feel so needy. But the main reason Spencer hated Heats was because he knew he'd never have anyone to spend them with. He knew he wasn't much to look at and his personality left a lot to be desired. And he was weird even by Alpha-Omega standards. Seriously, he was an Omega employed in a profession usually only sought by Alphas. He wasn't good with kids. He wasn't attractive. He wasn't anything special. And the fact that he'd just stood next to Morgan, had even been touched by him, while releasing Heat pheromones and Morgan had reacted by moving away from him proved that.

Spencer sighed and began gathering himself. The used needle had to be seen to first, since he didn't conveniently have a sharps disposal container with him, he had to recap the needle and properly dispose of it later. He stood the cap of the needle up on the of the toilet paper dispenser and slid the used needle into it with one hand in a well practice motion. After the syringe was capped, he wrapped it in toilet paper and put it into a rarely used zip up pocket inside his satchel. The bottle of Omegesterin went back into it's box and dropped it into the bottom of the bag. Finally he righted his clothes and fastened his belt.

Taking one last deep, fortifying breath, Spencer exited the bathroom and made his way back upstairs to the room where the team was meeting. "Reid," Prentiss called the moment he entered the room. The rest of the team was gone and the only remaining people in the room were random school officials and a couple of local law enforcement agents. "You're with me," Prentiss said walking towards him. "We're going to talk to Henry Kelly's roommate over in Semple Hall."

"Alright," Spencer said, adjusting the strap of his messenger's bag.

"You alright?" Prentiss asked. "You left pretty suddenly. Morgan said not to worry, but I gotta ask."

A light flush covered Spencer's cheeks. "I'm alright now," he said a bit sheepishly and Emily (bless her soul) didn't press for more information.

…

"Henry was a great guy," John Holcomb, Henry's former roommate said. "Neither one of us made any real friends our first year here so we let Student Affairs randomly assign us roommates for second year, that's how we met. We became best friends. We've been rooming together ever since."

"What can you tell us about Henry?" Prentiss asked. "We're trying to determine rather or not these were random killings, so anything you can tell us about Henry will help. Did he ever mention having an altercation with anyone? Did he have a bad break up recently?"

"There's not many bullies at Jewell," John said, he was clearing out a dresser of Henry's possessions and packing away everything into boxes and bins. "Henry was a bit of a wallflower in crowds. Well, that's putting it nicely. He had really bad social anxiety so he avoided things like parties and stuff. Nothing much about him really stood out though. He was this small thing. He was a bit of a puppy around close friends, always smiling and filled with a contagious happiness."

There was a knock at the door that interrupted the conversation. "It's open," John called out. The door opened and a pretty dark skinned girl stuck her head inside the room.

"Hey John, am I interrupting?"

"Harley," John said, motioning the girl to come inside. "These are FBI agents looking into the shootings. They were just asking me about Henry."

The girl moved further into the room and closer to Spencer and Prentiss. The moment she was completely inside the room, Spencer was struck by her scent. It was sweet and floral like toffee and lavender with an undercurrent of something Spencer was very familiar with. "FBI agents?" She asked, eyeing Spencer in a way that said she'd smelled him the same way he'd smelled her.

Spencer always felt awkward when he met other omegas, especially while he was working. They always looked at him strange because it was so rare for omegas to employed in such a dangerous and high action field. Omegas were teachers and nurses, not cops and soldiers. "Profilers," Spencer explained. "We work in the Behavioral Analysis Unit."

"That's cool," Harley said. "I'm a psychology major with an interest in abnormal and criminal psychology."

"Maybe you could be a Profiler one day," Spencer said with a weak smile.

"Maybe," Harley smiled back. "But right now I'm just picking up some things from John. Do you have those pictures I asked for? I need to finish the collage before tomorrow."

"I've got some," John said, grabbing a stack of photos off his desk, "I can bring you the rest later. Are you going to be at the vigil tonight?"

"I might be a bit late, but I'll be there. It looks like it's going to take me longer than intended to finish prep for the memorial. I'm going to be next door in Jones' for the rest of the day."

"Down in the Multicultural Center?" John asked.

Harley nodded. "Yeah, setting up for the memorial tomorrow."

"I'll bring them by later there then."

Harley smiled and bidded a farewell before departing the room.

Spencer and Prentiss only asked a few more questions before they, too, departed.

…

"There's no indication that the UNSUB is targeting a specific victim type and if I hear how 'sweet' everyone on this campus is one more time, I'm going to scream."

"Hey," Morgan said, sitting a cup of coffee down on the table in front of Prentiss, "relax, we'll get a lead soon."

"Before or after someone else dies?" Rossi said. It was a rhetorical question, but everyone knew the answer. The likelihood of them even narrowing down potential suspects before another person was targeted was so slim that Spencer didn't even want to think about breaking down the percentages.

"I think we should call it a night," Hotch said. "The UNSUB usually doesn't strike until the early hours of the morning and there's nothing we can do right now."

The team stood and gathered their things, closing and locking the door to the multipurpose room behind them. They made their way down the stairs and towards the glass doors of the student union. Outside, they could see the doors to the campus' chapel open and a large hoard of students spilling out onto the quad.

"I guess the vigil is over," Rossi said, glancing down at his watch.

Hotch's phone rang at that moment and he stepped away from the group to answer it. Up ahead, all the students seemed to be all migrating in the same direction in a frenzy that resembled hysteria. A siren could be heard somewhere close by and a few seconds later and ambulance sped up the hill heading the the same direction at the students.

Hotch hung up his phone and came back over to the team. "There's been another shooting," he announced, though everyone had guessed as much.

The team moved at once, following the crowd to the scene of the crime. Teachers, cops, and campus safety officers were making a barricade trying to keep the students back, but the team was let in with just a flash of a badge. As Spencer was about to pass the barricade, someone grab his arm and held him back. It was John Holcomb.

"Dr. Reid, it's Harley," he said, his face a mask of anguish as the words spilled from his lips, barely more than a whisper. "Someone shot Harley. She never made it to the vigil, I just thought she'd gotten too busy, but I should have known better than to leave her alone."

"Hey, John, it's okay," Spencer tried to console him.

"But it's not okay. I knew she could be targeted, but I still left her alone."

"You couldn't have known."

"But I did know. I wasn't sure at first, but I thought it was possible. All the victims have been omegas. That's why Harley was in charge of planning the memorial; she's the event chair for COS."

"Campus Omega Society," Spencer said in disbelief. How had they missed this?

…

"This school has just over a thousand students. Being a liberal arts college, it's not going to attract many alphas. In fact, there's currently only fifteen Biological Alphas enrolled as students and three Biological Alphas on staff. One of these guys has to be our shooter."

"Now we just have to figure out which one."

"Get Garcia on the phone."

…

Six hours later, they'd narrowed the suspect list down to eight potentials, but none of them were really suspect and they didn't have enough for so much as a warrant for any of them.

"Why are you so sure it has to been an alpha?" The local law enforcement agent taking lead on the case asked with a frustrated sigh.

"Because the victims are all omegas. The only way to identify an omega is through scent. The only people capable of scenting and omega is another omega or an alpha. And there's never been a case in recorded history where an omega has ever killed anyone in cold blood, ergo it must be an alpha."

"It might be an alpha, but it's not any of these guys."

"It has to be someone at the school. It has to be one of them."

"There is a chance he might not be one of the alphas listed. Unlike omegas, who have to take weeks off from class and would need special arrangements for their Heats, alphas aren't required to have their status on file. There could be alphas at this school that administration doesn't know about. Though I doubt there would be many. Fifteen alphas is a large number for a liberal arts college this small. There are about 3,163,897 alphas in America. There are 251 Liberal Arts colleges. On average, only about twenty-five hundred alphas attend liberal arts colleges a year. That averages to about ten alphas per college, but there's the tendency to choose larger colleges over smaller ones to take into account. A college this size would generally have an alpha population of about five to seven."

"And you know all of this, how?" The LLE asked in disbelief.

"You'd be surprised by how much our boy knows, just don't question it."

"Alright, then, Mr. Know-It-All, if you know so much, how come we haven't found this guy yet?"

"Because I don't know everything. We don't know everything. We're missing something. We need to figure out what."

"Well, when all else fails," Rossi said, "go back to the profile."

The team nodded and set about re-examining the profile. It was during this, while everyone struggled to find the missing variable, when something became clear to Spencer.

"Gideon," he whispered as realization hit him.

"What was that?" Prentiss asked.

"Gideon," He repeated louder. "Working a case on a college campus always brings to mind two things for me: Morgan telling me I need to think outside the box and Gideon." One of the last case they'd worked with Spencer's former mentor had been on a college campus, so it made sense that his brain brought up memories of the man, but that wasn't the point. "In one of Gideon's papers he said that multiple personalities wasn't a reasonable defense because there'd never been a proven case of Dissociative Identity Disorder. But after the Adam Jackson and... Tobias Hankel cases, I'm inclined to believe that such a disorder exist."

"Where are you going with this?"

"When Gideon wrote it, there had never been a proven case of D.I.D. so his paper wasn't wrong, but now it would be considered outdated and behind the times. Perhaps holding on to the idea of an omega being unable to commit these crimes is outdated and behind the times as well."

"You think our killer is an omega?"

"Well, it's definitely not one of these alphas and it's extremely unlikely for it to be a beta."

"Fuck." Morgan said suddenly. "I know who it is."

At that moment, one of the local officers' phone rang and just a second after answering it, he informed the room that shots had been fired at the Multicultural Center in the basement of Jones Hall where the Campus Omega Society were currently having a memorial party for the lost students.

…

Leah Humphrey didn't consider herself a killer. People always said she was a sweet girl. Gentle-natured, mild-mannered, a bit shy, and really really sweet. Sure she had her quirks, but everybody did. And parts of her personality were atypical of omegas, but no one really fitted perfectly into the cookie cutter mold of what their biology said they should be. Anyone who knew Leah would say she was a perfectly normal girl and there was nothing in her nature that could make her a killer.

What people didn't realize was that the only thing standing between sweet-Leah and a cold-blooded killer was a boy by the name of James Small.

James had been Leah's best friend for as long as she could remember. They'd been in the same Mommy and Me classes when they were in diapers and by the time they were walking and talking, they were already firmly attached at the hip. For the longest time, James was Leah's only friend until he managed to coax her out of her shell enough to meet new people. But even after she'd made new friends, her friendship with James was the strongest and most important.

Learning that James was and alpha and Leah was an omega had been a most fortuitous occasion. James Claimed her right after her first Heat when she was twelve and maintained that claim on her for the eight years since. Leah had thought that one day, after they'd finished school and had gotten settled into their careers, James would turn that Claim into an actual Bond and the two of them would have their happily ever after together. Because Leah was the most important omega in James' life and she knew he wouldn't be willing to let her go for anything, and him attending William Jewell to be with her just proved it.

But then James had met Regina Vaughn. Regina was an omega. She was beautiful and outgoing and everyone loved her. She was president of the Campus Omega Society and a member of the track team and Social Chair of her sorority and was a Freshmen Mentor and was just this perfect person with so much to love about her and Leah _hated _her. But James loved her. He was enamored with her from day one.

It was fine the first couple of years they were at college. James and Regina were just friends first year and second year, she let him Claim her. It was their third year, this year, that things had gone to hell. James decided that he wanted to Bond with Regina and, if that wasn't a big enough betrayal, he wanted to break his Claim on Leah because Regina didn't want him tied to anyone else if he was going to Bond with her. James asked Leah to find another alpha to Claim her. A week later, Leah lied and said she had. If James had cared enough and had pulled his head out of Regina's ass long enough to notice her, he would have realized that Leah didn't smell at all like another alpha had Claimed her. Leah hadn't let another alpha near her. James was the only alpha for her and he didn't want her.

So the sudden loss of contact that was James removing his Claim had sent Leah in a Drop. She'd known it was going to happen, but nothing could have prepared her for the experience. The deep, dark, aching, loneliness that fell over her was so terrible she thought she'd lose her mind. The depression that clung to her everyday weighed her down like lead. She managed to go a month before she couldn't take it anymore.

Her dad had bought the gun when she was sixteen and had taught her how to shoot it. How he'd acquired the gun was pretty shady, but he'd had her best interest in mind. She'd never used the gun on an actual person before. The only reason she'd had it at the school was because she'd wanted to put herself out of her misery, but then she'd seen Della in the parking lot and she'd gotten a better idea.

It was all Regina's fault that James had left her. It was Regina's fault that Leah had to suffer the Drop. If Regina wasn't around, Leah could have James. If there was no other omegas around, James would have to choose Leah. The other omegas needed to die.

When the FBI came to campus, Leah realized she might have bitten off more than she could chew. When one of them questioned her, an alpha actually, she realized she needed to finish things quickly. Even though they hadn't suspected her at the time, who knew they would wise up. There was only two omegas left that she really wanted dead. She would take them out and end all of this. All she needed to do was kill Harley and and Regina and it would be done.

Harley was easy. Her tendency to go into seclusion when she felt overburdened worked in Leah's favor. And Regina being the president of C.O.S. meant she would have to be at the memorial party along with most of the the other omegas on campus. If she happened to take out some of them in the process of getting to Regina, then more power to her.

…

Spencer was told to stay behind while the team moved in for the capture. Being an Omega made him a target and they didn't want to put him at unnecessary risk. Sitting in the meeting room and listening to the words being passed over the headset was one of the most nerve wracking experiences of his life. He didn't like his team (his family!), being in danger without him there to help them.

He listened to Morgan and Hotch trying to talk the UNSUB down, telling her that no one else needed to die, but the girl was saying no. "One more person needs to die. She needs to die. This is all her fault. She's the life ruiner here, not me. She has to die!"

Some more words were passed and then shots were fired. Spencer held his breath as the sound of bullets reverberated over the headset. He continued holding his breath after the noise died down until he heard every member of this team speak and assure the others that they were okay.

He let out a sigh of relief. It was over.


End file.
